The Four Horsemen
by penguinfighter-d-chan
Summary: There's no guarantee that if one's Immune, they get Scot-free in the zombie apocalypse...especially when one becomes CEDA and the military's new experiment.
1. Camera Diary Entry 001

A/N: Wrote the rough draft for this during a particularly boring class while my brain drifted into La-La land and how _Left 4 Dead_ is inherently better than the _Resident Evil_ films. The first chapters will follow this format of camera diary then switches to 3rd-person POV.

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe.

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[The camera flips on and there's a rustle in the painfully white room. There's no evidence that a human being ever lived there other than a tattered overall, a Bullshifters shirt and a pair of work boots. A man no older than 23 walks into the frame; messy brown curls, slightly tanned skin, and blue eyes make contrast with the lack of color around him. His black shirt has a tear alongside his right arm, showing the hints of a large blue tribal tattoo. The only thing not black were the weapons' holster and his cap. He sits down on a white chair and clears his throat. ]_

My name's Ellis an' I'm a survivor…well, I used t' be. What'ver CEDA says 'bout helpin' out survivors, it's a lie. Things got so bad righ' aroun' th' time the copter showed and picked us up in New Orleans. Military's started t' shoot ev'ryone down, it don't matter if it was immune, carrier, or infected. I remember prayin' Louis an' Zoey be all right…Francis can jus' bite th' big one fer all I care.

When we got here at the evac station, them scientists split us up into four rooms like these… [_Ellis picks up the military issue camera and shows it around. It's a sterile environment except for the occasional plate of food and notepad full of old doodles and a garden gnome in a glass coffin_] where th' air's too dry. Nick got the room next t'mine but we couldn't talk or 'em soldiers came in t' shut us both up. So we est'blished a system of Morse at 2 am when th' shifts changed. First thing Nick tapped was "Don't drop the soap." I think he heard me laugh.

We were isolated fo' three days while they ran their tests t' see if we were carriers or immune. I really didn' mind 'em needles, I jus' wanted a friendly face in tha' see o' white. They didn't want us socializin' and wanted t' see if we were contagious for som'thin' or shit. [_He stops for a breath and to grab the water bottle from behind the camera._] At th' end of the 3rd day, they wanted us t' burn our clothes…Like hell, they'd be takin' my stuff! They're what makes us us! Good thing Coach argued as long as he did because we were confirmed Immune; we wash th' clothes ourselves an' keep 'em.

The CEDA guys were really jumpy 'bout the idea but 'em soldiers said som'thin' t' the likin' of "We're doing this to them, might as well let them keep their stuff." I've ne'er been so happy t' keep mah hat! I didn't understan' then why Nick, Rochelle an' Coach turned so pale for tha'.

A week later, I got mah answer: they were goin' to use us. Them scientists found we had some sort o' extra punch t' our immune system or what'ver with varyin' strengths based on "life experiences" or som'thin' equally stupid. What'ver they found, Ro was had th' least because of her [_the young man picks up the document_] "sedentary lifestyle" an' they'd go easy on her. Me an' Coach got the brunt load o' the "regiment". It was th' only time I was e'ver sorry t' be Keith's friend; I was there in mah stories y'know. Coach's football career an' "comeback" durin' our time t'gether was their reasons to give him [_Reads again_] "full dosage". Nick was s'pposed to be in the middle ground 'cause his records were in Chicago but the eggheads decided to fuck it and stick 'im in the full dosage group with us.

Befo' we got our blue shots though, th' soldiers sent us on an all-expense trip t' Austin by helicopter again so we'd get "properly educated". I can't make this shit up; they signed us all up in som' special ops trainin' for no good reason! Those were one of th' hardest weeks o' my life, tryin' t' cram years of trainin' in 2 and a half weeks! But at least…we were back in our group, like when we met in the Vannah. [_Ellis stretches himself along the back of the seat and props his feet up on the edge of the table._]

I do remember Nick relaxin' on the empty bleachers one day while the other soldiers went out t'die – half o' them had ne'er seen a Boomer in their lives – with Coach while me an' Rochelle toyed 'round with some sweet full-body grapples. "Ten bucks Ro kicks Overalls' ass," I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Girl's got some rage today, Nick, I'll raise it two-to-one," Coach replied before I got myself in a full body leg hold. Goes without sayin' Nick musta been psychic because I was lyin' on my ass, with a backache.

I later found out why she was so damn pissed from Nick himself: th' latest batch of tests gave the green light to th' eggheads for their li'l experiment with us. I can tell yew this; I've killed Tanks, I've killed Witches but my heart dropped t' the floor when he said that. Tha' night, I remember tapping "What's going to happen to us?" on my wall but all I got was "Whatever they want it to happen, El." Nick only uses El t' make fun of me or t' say we're in deep shit. [_he shrugs at the lens_] Shit, didn' they learn from those crappy _Resident Evil_ movies tha' human experimentation's bad? "They're desperate," he concluded that conversation.

The next day we got flown back to the evac center…never really cared t' know the city but we did sit down and Coach said a li'l prayer. Fo' once, Nick didn't insult the man or scoff at th' words being said. I don' remember the exact words but we all had th' same thought: God, please let us live one mo' day. [_Ellis's expression saddens considerably and there's no hint of the jovial mood he had at the start of the recording._] They were waitin' fo' us with four tanks of water and all that _Alien_ pod crap, and an IV of th' Blue stuff. It burned when th' stuff was inserted into my veins in mah hands an' forearm so they injected us with som' anesth'sia t' keep us quiet when they put us in the tanks, or so they said. I only got t' count to 5 horses jumpin' the fence when I blacked out.

[_He takes off his hat to pull his hair back then repositions it again_] Whate'er they did t' us…messed us up. We were still ourselves but…there's no real way t' describe it. It's like seeing th' world through new eyes, touchin' ev'rythin' with new hands…it felt wrong. That's when I felt it, my new body. I felt strong, stronger than possibly Keith. There were soldiers waitin', guns on stan'by, just in case CEDA's science fair project resulted in any one o' us turnin' Infected.. I saw 'em cut Rochelle's hand an' it jus' grew back like a fresh coat of paint. Needless to say…we lost our shit.

Coach was yelling at 'em, telling 'em this was inhumane, and managed to toss one of th' doctors over th' window. Nick grabbed me by th' arm an' told me to start runnin' at any direction befo' he got pistol-whipped. I ran like there was no tomorrow 'cause, honestly, at tha' moment…there wasn't. I ran so damn fast, they had t' shoot me with sleepin' darts to get me on mah knees. Once we were all "sedated", Dr. McKinley, Nick told me she was th' head of th' project, promised us that once she an' her fellow eggheads were done and the cure was found, she'd reverse it all. I chose…_choose_ to believe her. To make her promise official, she personally handed each one of us a blank pair of dog tags and asked us what we wanted on them…

I heard Coach scoff at th' notion and asked Nick, "Hey, Slick; what'd you call us back in Savannah?" I saw the glare in that gambler's eyes jus' sparkle when he answered with, "The Four Horsemen. No, Yee-Haw, they're not going to give you an animal."

That all happened a week before I stole this cam'ra from security. My name's Ellis an' fer now, I'm Conquest.

[_The young man tenses up at the sound of movement at the door, and quickly shuts the camera off._]


	2. Camera Diary Entry 002

A/N: Well, I'm surprised people read this and liked it...thank you! Like stated previously, the first couple of chapters are in the camera diary format but later chapters will alternate between this POV and the third-person POV. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe and the cameo (c) James Cameron

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Chapter 2: Camera Diary Entry 002**

[_The camera screens lights up again; it's been three hours since the last recording and the young man is slightly worse for wear. His shirt is off, revealing scar tissue both from the Infected and possible friendly misfire on the well defined edges. His blue eyes dart all over the room, as if trying to remember something not that important._]

S'rry 'bout that; got called in by tha' asshole Sargeant Cole 'bout Nick misbehavin' at mess hall. Th' man's a walkin' fight these days. Don' blame him though; it's easy to pick one stressed out soldier an' set 'im off by jus' talkin' to him. Dr. McKinley says we'd be doin' 'em favors by not interactin' with 'em but we can't help it; we like the feelin' of talkin' to another person tha' ain't us. Makes th' damn experiment much mo' bearable.

Like I said befo', we got nicknamed after the Four Horsemen of th' Apocalypse. I could almost hear my Ma tryin' t' disagree but… [_There's a wistful look in his eyes, coupled with the memory_] My Ma wouldn't be too happy t' know I willin'ly let CEDA do wha' they did but Ro says she'd be mo' happy t' see me alive. I was Conquest, Nick was Death, Coach was Famine, and Ro was War. Coach got th' short end o' the stick with 'em names but he jus' shrugged it off like he woul' at any of Nick's insults. [_Ellis then takes off the ball chain and shows it to the camera. It reads "Ellis (blurred by the light angle), 1986, Savannah, GA, Project Legion: CONQUEST _] They made it real nice an' official but anyone coul' tell th' military din't want t' associate 'emselves with th' eggheads an' their Frankensteins.

Both sides did their tests an' we discovered _exactly_ what our new bodies coul' do. Dr. Holden, Doc McKinley's assistant said tha' the virus tha' caused the break-out, the Green Flu, did cause mutations but it coul'n' make 'em out of thin air. People's DNA were alter'd by their life choices, like th' Smoker could've been a 6-pack-a-day puffin' fella an' the Boomers had been chronic couch potatoes. When they saw _our_ lives – wasn't tha' comfortable havin' my choices displayed – they saw we coul' take the Blue stuff without convertin'. Which begs th' question: [_the young man sits up closer to the lens, face now hardened with uncertainty_] How many Survivors had this done t' 'em an'…well, fill in th' blanks 'cause I have no real desire t' think 'bout their souls.

We were given the strengths of a Tank plus th' runnin', instincts, an' gymnastics of a Hunter. I remember seeing quite clearly in pitch black and findin' my target without usin' fancy equipment an' I've ne'er, NEVER, seen Ro do a full flip like she did that first jump. We also got a nifty healin' factor that came from our natural immunity. Ro said it 'erself, she was th' black version of fuckin' Max Guevara. I had no idea wha' she meant but Nick had an idea 'cause he said tha' if Ro was Jessica Alba, he'd fuck her in an instant. She an' Coach jus' laughed it off.

Tha' night, I tapped my wall t' say "If these changes ain't so bad, why do I feel like shit?" Nick took a while to respond then tapped back, "Because yer body's still getting' used to it." It wasn't much but that was his style. I decided t' test our ears an' whispered onto the wall "Did I e'er tell yew th' time Keith tried bungee jumpin' on th' Mississippi?" These walls are COLD to th' lips but I did hear his cot squeak an' then his voice, "Whatever retarded thing Keith did, you're going to beat him at his own game when you find him." I never smiled so much 'n my life.

The next few days, we got our first job, recon on Gulfport ou'side of Biloxi…Coach got assigned leader. Nick bitched about it but Sgt. Cole called 'im on his bluff 'cause Coach had experience handlin' smartass brats like him. We were still civilians so half the military shit they said wen' over our heads. All I got was "eliminate any Sierras on sight". Y'see, Sierras are their way o' callin' th' Specials, particularly Tanks (Tangos). We got th' same uniforms as ev'ryone else, even though Dr. McKinley was totally against the idea. Said "It was too early t' send us out."

Ro was the sniper while me an' the rest were cover fo' 'em soldiers, makin' sure no one got bit o' killed in this. We all packed heavy, schoolboys gotta carry MAC-10 Sub-machines, Coach gettin' the distinction of carryin' M1911 Pistols. Sgt. Cole got me an' Nick some ninja swords, th' same ones we'd use at the rescue, sayin' "we'd better know how t' use 'em right." I shut Nick up befo' he said som'thin' stupid. [_He grabs his already halfway empty bottle and takes a good gulp_]

Y'know the sayin' Speak o' th' Devil an' he'll come? Well someone jus' spit in his ear 'cause that day, Gulfport was crawlin' with th' Infected. The only reason we didn't get mauled righ' then an' by a damn Witch was because, and I saw this I swear, Rochelle managed to blow her head off with a bullet the size o' a fucking baseball. Tha's how it all hit me…we'd really changed. Ro nor anyone else I knew fo' tha' matter, coul've ne'er made tha' shot without th' grace of God. Then we heard the ground rumble and I could see Nick an' Coach tense up just as fast as I did; chargers jus' behind us. Them soldiers were all confused 'bout th' noise until Coach shouted at 'em to get shooting!

To ev'ryone else, Nick had damn near disappeared, but y'know how time slows when yew go really, really fast? That's wha' I saw when he jus' ran headfirst to tha' thing and then withdraw his sword. With one fell slash, th' charger howled like a burned wolf an' his arm fell dead on th' ground. Only bad thin' was how much blood sprayed 'im but he don't mind it at all; we've been bathed in blood an' used bathwater befo' we got rescued. Meanwhile, I was too busy handlin' th' rest of th' Infected and not lose my hat to a humpin' bastard. But th' one definin' moment was watchin' Coach wrestle the damn Tank…and win. [_Ellis's eyes drop to his boots and stares at his dog tags_]

Th' job was declared a 'success'; the military didn't lose any of their men an' CEDA got a fiel' run of their project. [_He scoffs at that…_] To th' scientists; we stopped bein' people an' started callin' us by our codenames, as early as th' decontamination room tha' day. But it don't matter jus' as long as we remember our names an' who we are.

Well, this is El, signin' off; got some practice runs here t' do. Who knows? Maybe I'll beat Nick's record t'night!

[_His hand reaches over the camera and the screen goes black_]


	3. Camera Diary Entry 003

A/N: Another chapter up, trying to keep the momentum alive. Wrote this all on my Blackberry before, during, and after class...it's really hilarious to practice Ellis' voice out loud. The next chapter will not be a diary entry but it will still carry the camera format I'm growing fond of. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe

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Chapter 3: Camera Diary Entry 003**

[_The camera screen flips up and its owner picks it up to put it on top of the desk. His shirt is all torn up but the device captures the tissues about to finish their reconstruction. The young man then turns to the camera, Cheshire grin from ear to ear._] Keith, Dave, an' Earl, y'ever see this, I hope yew shit yerselves 'cause I'mma kick yo' asses when I find y'all!

Unless yew got Nick on yer side, then I'm screwed. I'd like t' use this moment t' remind CEDA they gave an ex-mob bouncer superpowers. Tha's all. [_Ellis laughs at the thought and shakes his head_] Trainin' wasn't tha' boring since he was there. Coach had gone out t' get our dinners an' Rochelle was taking a nap. Th' base here gets a li'l boring 'tween jobs so we try t' live as normal as possible. Nick was punchin' the shit out o' the punchin' bag but I coul' tell he was holdin' back. Last job I saw him break a Jockey's arm jus' from smackin' him to th' wall. "Got something to say, Overalls?" He asked me while practicin' his left hook t' which I answered "Jus' wondering why yew ain' dealin' yer cards."

Nick smirked an' stopped punchin' to say, "They took them away," an' pointed t' a military hat full o' cash. I smiled; nothing's changin' his ways. "But don't tell Dr. McKinley; that bitch got the stick so high up her ass, it's a wonder she can walk," he theatened me but there was no real malice t' it. He was right; Doc McKinley was a pretty thang but she was always so cold t' us ev'n to Rochelle. She'd talk t' ya all mechanical like an' she'd ne'er call yew by yer name, jus' yer rank. She don' want us 'round them soldiers nor did she want us t' 'stablish any lastin' conversations with her crones. I swear t' God, she gave me th' Evil Eye jus' 'cause Keith had dated a smart girl like her. "Well, yew shoul'n't have conned 'em marchin' boys in th' first place," I told him an' he jus' brushed it off.

Lemme tell yew, hand-t'-hand combat ain' any easier when the guy throwin' the shots has been doin' this fer a good chunk o' his life and Nick was like that. He had th' swagger of a bouncer, kinda like Coach's football steps so fo' a mechanic like me, it was hard t' keep up with him. Fucker got me eatin' dirt in five punches. Then he did som'thin' I ne'er thought woul' do; he held out his hand t' help me up on my feet. "Never assume your attacker's going through the front," he said an' I listened. [_The young man smirks at the memory that followed._] So I followed his advice and spun-kicked him t' th' ground t' tell 'im, "Ne'er get too cocky either." Tha's when Coach arrived, four meals in tow an' we all sat down to get our grub on. It felt like Sunday Dinner at Ma's...'Xcept it was tha' nasty dehydr'ted shit but beggars can't be choosers. Tha' night, 'round 5 am, I heard Nick whisper t' the wall, "Not bad, Ellis; you might not die too often."

Th' next job was a few hours later, back t' Gulfport to [_Ellis picks up a discarded report_] "secure army outpost." [_The young man has a sarcastic look on his face as he rereads it_] In layman's terms: babysittin'. Sgt. Cole decided his men coul' use our help ag'in but wanted us watched too; said som'thin' alon' th' lines of "don't want those things anywhere near th' squadron". I can tell yew this: I'd ne'er leave a friend behin' an' I resent bein' called a thing. My name's Ellis, asswipe. I coul' tell ev'ryone else heard it 'cause Ro looked...broken. Coach gave 'er a hug an' told her tha' this wasn't permanent; it was jus' until th' CEDA found a cure. Nick just paid attentio' t' th' schematics. I reckon he's used t' being treated like an object 'cause he didn't flinch.

We went on 'copter while 'em soldiers arrived on envoy. Jumping from the cockpit at 20 feet 'cause th' pilot was too scared t' catch th' virus felt like a hop with my new legs. Coach jus' sneered a' th' man an' growled while handin' out th' typewriters, "No use bein' a coward if you know when your time's up." "Not anyone has your faith in God, Coach, nor your luck o' the draw," I heard Nick spit back befo' grabbin' the katana and tossin' Ro the han'guns. By rule o' thumb, there were mo' ammo an' weapons but ne'er hurts t' start right. We were behin' th' troops; Rochelle righ'fully thought it was stupid, "send the freaks in first."

[_His expression steeled up and looked down at the torn shirt_] That proved t' be one fatal mistake once we heard that cryin' bitch after a horde or two. Thanks to one stray bullet, th' Witch started massacring the team. I tried t' step in befo' a guy named Pvt. Mark got torn apart and got gored f' my troubles. I lost so much blood, I started seein' things weird. Th' thin' 'bout healin' real fast is tha' it ain' painless so I was seein' black 'n white stars tha' moment while my organs patched 'emselves up. Who knew th' liver was so big when it's in use? All I remember Rochelle head-butting th' Witch an' Nick slicin' a buncha common while Coach fixed me. As soon as I coul', I grabbed th' Uzi from a dead soldier an' made it rain. I heard Coach yell a' his mike, "This is Famine, we have a real fucked up situation here! Men down! Getcher military asses over here!"

We managed t' get th' rest of the squad in a saferoom while help arrived. God, wha' I saw wasn't right; outta the 45 men that went out, 15 were breathin' an' six were turnin', includin' Pvt. Mark. [_The young man can't help hide his face from the shame and fleeting despair._] Wha' good's bein' able t' heal back if yew can't do it t' others? Doc McKinley stated tha' we hafta shoot any "possible Infected on sight" but none of us had th' heart to do it. We ain' monsters. So when the evac vehicle got there, Nick an' Coach tallied th' survivors at fifteen. We left th' others in that saferoom.

[_There's a hint of a sad smile in El's lips. His breathing relaxed and his fingers stop trembling._] If I had to through all this again back at th' Vannah...I would still stick t' them; until I find Keith and Ma, this is my family. Nick even asked if I was 'kay...I tol' him I was now an' I'd beat 'im in a round o' cards. I heard 'im chuckle befo' he went t' sleep two hours ago. [_He yawns a little and he stretches his back._] Better call it in too; tomorrow's th' weekly tests t' check on th' Blue stuff.

[_His hand reaches over the camera and the screen goes black._]


	4. CEDA Test Video Recording 0034

A/N: This chapter's told through the lens of another camera at the base and where I get all of the biology used out there. There's a quick review after the chapter, based on a 10th grade/Basic college-higher education class.

Cookie to whoever catches the reference! Yes, you can use Wikipedia for it...Enjoy!

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe.

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**Chapter 4: CEDA Project Legion Video Recording 0034**

[_The desktop camera switches on and there are four people sleeping in four tanks. They are connected to five machines, a breathing apparatus, and electrocardiogram to measure their vitals. One of the subjects is Ellis; the others include an older African American man, a man baring vaguely Arabic or Indian features and an African American woman with shoulder-length hair. A fair woman, blonde and quite tall, comes into view, dressed in her white uniform._]

This is Dr. Erin McKinley and this is day 23 of Project Legion, as per research in the last 3 months prior to Infection by Virus gB435. Subjects present are listed by their military code-names from oldest to youngest: Famine, Death, War, and Conquest. This is to ensure that all data is kept encrypted for further study by the Civil Emergency and Defense Agency or CEDA. All four have been successfully tested with the Rhamnusia Strain of Virus gB435 (gB435-β) What follows is the follow-up examination and analysis of the experiment.

[_Dr. McKinley then starts walking across the room, pointing to the oldest male. She is taking notes on the heart rates_.] There are no signs of genetic deterioration as seen in Virus gB435, no mental or physical corrosion have been found, as seen by the Commoners and the Specials. One could say there's a possible assimilation in their varying genetic structures. They have a 68% increase in muscle flexibility and almost 127% in strength. Their eye structures can register up to near zero visibility, and proven to have nocturnal vision.

What surprises me and Dr. Holden the most is the regenerative properties of the Rhamnusia Strain in these subjects. Twenty-two hours ago, subject Conquest arrived with moderate lesions after an encounter with the Infected colloquially referred to as the Witch. 90% of all encounters with said infected are lethal and the subject's body was able to reconstruct the connective tissues long enough to receive proper help back here in the Meridian base. Famine has seen an additional increase in strength and a 25% reconstruction of previous injuries as well as Death. This regenerative property is also controlling the extent of the strain in their immune systems in the nuclear level with their particular DNA ligases; they are virtually immune to possibly any disease out there, especially the Green Flu.

If we at CEDA were able to extrapolate stem cells from this phase of Project Legion, there's a high chance for a cure…to compatible hosts. Due to the highly volatile nature of both Virus gB435 and its derivative gB435-β, there is no sure way to remove the healing properties of these subjects without there being risk of Infection. Strain gB435-α made sure of that. All subjects of that experiment were properly disposed of thanks to the Armed Forces.

[_Dr. McKinley then scoffs in a derisive manner as she approaches the subject known as Death. She crosses her arms and paces back to the computer.]_ These military dogs went about killing every Carrier and possible Immune out there, not even bothering with the possibility of a cure in those individuals. Thank God I found these people and got their tests done before they were sent to the shooting range. All they care is eradication… [_She looks at the camera with a haughty look, well deserved for her research,]_ but my Horsemen are proving more than they can handle. They're superior to their grunts; CEDA could take control of the situation again when the time's right. Sometimes, I wonder how many lives we could've saved if that first strain had been properly contained.

Well, can't cry over spilled milk; current studies demonstrate that resistance to Virus gB435 is a recessive X-chromosome gene so I will remove an ovum from the female subject to extract the gene from the modified subject. [_She types a command in the window and the tank holding War drains itself and allows the extraction of the young woman. She is then placed on a table and Dr. McKinley takes out a massive syringe_.] Subject has been anesthetized so extraction can begin.

[_She plunges the needle into the woman's abdomen and deftly suctions out a sample of her ovarian structures. There is a moment of stunned silence.]_ Amazing, instant regeneration…the diseases we could cure.

This is recording 0034 and from what I, Dr. McKinley, have seen, I can declare gB435-β a moderate success. My only concern is their audacity and their strong will; they don't take orders easy, especially Death and Conquest.

[_Dr. McKinley caps the syringe and tosses the gloves away. She activates the commands to put War back into stasis until 12 hours later, with the rest of her subject group before shutting off the station camera._]

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Quick biology review:**

_DNA ligases:_ an enzyme that participates in the cell repairs single-stranded discontinuities in double stranded DNA molecules. Its main purpose is to correct any errors in the genetic code by inserting the correct amino acids combinations (_adenine, thymine, cytosine, guanine_).

_X-chromosome gene:_ a gene that can only be found in the X chromosome/Pair 23 in the human karyotype (sex chromosome). A recessive X-chromosome gene is the absence of the dominant trait (in this case, the body's inability to resist the Green Flu is the _dominant_ gene, immunity is the _recessive_). Because women have double-X, there's a higher chance of Infection and mutation in females than males because it's possible they have both dominant and recessive genes.

_Ovum:_ human egg cell, carries only one X chromosome.

_α_ – Alpha strain, first strain isolated

_β_ – Beta strain, second strain isolated


	5. Camera Diary Entry 004

A/N: Another camera chapter up and this one proves to be more a walkthrough of the Meridian base where the Survivors are locked up in as well as a back and forth between Nick and Ellis for the camera but it shouldn't be much of a problem. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe

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Chapter 5: Camera Diary Entry 004

[_The makeshift camera diary comes back to life and it's Ellis standing up with a slightly weathered grin on his face. He's wearing his Bullshifters shirt under the brown camouflage two-piece._]

Man, those tests can leave a man drained but t'day we're doin' something diff'rent: we're goin' on a tour of this here place! Th' military's got our numbers good. But I hate bein' cooped up in tha' fo' too long. I'm a Southern man, dammit! [_He starts walking around with the camera hidden in the military-issued duffel bag. The hall has three other rooms just like his, reinforced by disinfecting stations and steel bars._] These are our rooms or "livin' quarters" t' keep us away from 'em soldiers. I'd like 'em better if they weren't so bright an' white, it hurts th' eyes after a while. This one's Nick's, Rochelle an' finally Coach-man 'imself. [_Resumes the walkaround with his usual candor, humming a Midnight Riders song. A couple of soldiers pass him by El greets them with a tip of his hat, regardless if they reply back._]

That there's th' trainin' area, [_The young man takes out the camera and films a couple of squadrons going through practice runs._] Sgt. Cole ne'er thanked us fer gettin' his men outta tha' walkin' hornet's nest tha's the Witch but at least he didn't find th' Infected soldiers. Man, I don' think I'm good 'nough t' be a soldier; I'mma much better mechanic, if y'all don' mind me sayin'. [_His face lights up and he hurriedly shoves the camera in the bag. The device tumbles around, revealing wrenches, screwdrivers, and assorted small auto parts. The bag stops and Ellis picks it up and sets it on top of a large toolbox._]

This here be my pet project: foun' it while we first got here! [_It's a junker of an envoy jeep but its top's raised and there's a rag on the side_] Poor gal's outta service thanks t' a bad starter pump an' hose but I think I can do som' voodoo an' get her runnin' again. I'll be loggin' off t' do my part, an' Keith...yer right about military gals an' not takin' shit. I miss Zoey. Shoulda married her while I had th' chance. [_He reaches over and flips the camera off; he's got a creative spark in his blue eyes._]

[_The camera screen lights up again but it's not the garage but a mess hall full of traffic. Most probably, it turned by accident and it's not Ellis dominating the view outside the bag. It's an older man, with black hair, eternal stubble, defined Eurasian features, and green eyes. He's wearing the same black shirt El had after the Witch attack but he has a double gun holster_] Ellis; you're worse than Coach, I swear to God. It's not like the food's going to disappear. [_Ellis's voice is heard snorting before he says "Hey now, it could if given th' righ' conditions!"_] Don't make me answer that; I'd like to spend ONE lunch break without getting called to Doc Holden's office like a fuckin' schoolchild. [_The mechanic is heard laughing outside the duffel bag, chuckling "Tha' woman's gettin' a crush on yew, Nick!"_] Ha ha, Overalls, creepy science obsession aside, I don't date anyone whose changed my genetic makeup.

[The camera automatically zooms in, causing enough noise to catch Nick's attention, even through the crowd.] Did you hear that? [_It seems Ellis has also heard it and recognize it as a "SHIT" and a mad scramble for the duffel bag is caught on tape before the gambler takes the device out._] Is this a-

[_El is on screen, making a shh noise._] C'mon Nick, don' make me lose tha' thing! I gotta talk t' som'one besides yew an' it was a bitch t' steal from th' military. [_He actually looks slightly ashamed at the admission but there's no response by Nick's part._] There better be porn in this thing, Ellis. [_The camera is then shoved back in the duffel bag when a deep male is heard "Whatchu boys doin'?"_] Trading beauty secrets; turns out shit and Spitter bile are quite exfoliating.

[_A woman's laughter is heard prior to her sitting down. "Must be some new age French tip you two got there because I'm never using it. Now, let's leave Infected talk for after lunch; me and Coach just had ourselves briefed on our first joint job."_] Famine 'n War t'gther, Ro? Father Huck woulda had a heart attack back home if I e'er uttered som'thin' like tha' aloud. [_There's gravel sigh from the oldest man on the table as he added, "They thought I was better 'mployed as a human bullet proof vest. Th' things we do fer our country an' shit."_] Hey people, these things are getting cold and last I checked, we didn't get the fire outta the whole turn-us-in-CEDA-guinea-pigs deal.

[_There's no more than casual conversations between the foursome, ranging from discussing the job itself to random stories about their previous life, including one about Keith trying to jumpstart a car with an industrial multiplug charger. Suddenly, everyone goes quiet and a thunderous voice is heard shouting, "Regiment Foxtrot and Team November, report to the Practice Yard for a demonstration!"_] Ain' we Team November? [_It's El's voice and it sounds perplexed. "That be us, youn'un, but it don' sound right," Coach's seems much more concerned._] Whatever it is, Sgt. Cole wants us out ASAP. [_Nick's never sounded this distrusting, and Rochelle agrees silently. "Let's just see what they want."_]

[_Before they leave, Ellis opens the bag and finally shuts down the camera._]


	6. Demonstration

A/N: This chapter is handled differently, as it's on the 3rd person POV. It's a cockfight between CEDA and the Military and one of the Survivors gets to, in so many words, tell them "fuck you." Don't be hatin' on who gets to be that. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe

* * *

**Chapter 6: Demonstration**

Just as he commanded, Sergeant Nathan Cole oversaw both the 30-man Regiment Foxtrot and the 4-civilian Team November file out in a single-file line at the secured yard. He had both Dr. McKinley and Dr. Holden at his left side, both women quite displeased at the interruption. "Is there a point to this?" McKinley hissed rather halfheartedly; this was just a dick competition and even though she physically lacked one, she knew she had Cole beat. "Just trying to get you scientists off your high horses," the California native soldier spat back with a boastful sneer. He then commanded both companies to make a circle, like good children, but turned to him.

"I see here a travesty to the Army and do you know why?" He yelled from his post. "No sir!" Everyone exclaimed in unison. "Because I see here thirty men and women who've trained under the Army's Code of Honor, under Old Glory herself, and made the cut mixed in with unqualified and undeserving civilians, that's why!" Cole made his point perfectly clear, making all four Survivors the targets of his 'demonstration'. "CEDA here thinks it can take over when it wants just because it got itself new toys. War!" The sergeant pointed at Rochelle and yet she learned never to break eye contact. "Sir, yes sir!" Cole then stepped away from his post and started to circle the young woman, "Do you think you deserve to be here?"

"Yes, sir!" Ro replied hardened; she and her friends didn't survive all that zombie shit and the experiment to get told off by this man. "Oh? Why's that?" "Because me and my comrades fought the Hordes by ourselves to get here, sir!" She could see Nick smirk defiantly while El and Coach nodded in agreement. "So if you're so good, why did CEDA make you into these things?" She couldn't help the smile when she answered, "Because CEDA royally fucked the situation and are trying to cover their asses, sir!" Cole and a few soldiers held back a laugh at the scientists' expense until she said, "And we ain't 'things' sir! We're human beings too, sir!"

Suddenly, Rochelle heard handcuffs slapped onto her wrists, binding her hands to her back. "Ro-" Ellis almost darted but was held off by Nick's hand and "Don't worry about it." "Is that so, War? Then let's put that to the test. Pvt. Warner and Vernon, stand in front! You two are going to demonstrate what proper training can do over the amateur," was the last order Sgt. Cole called out then stopped in his retreat. "Oh and one more thing," before he pistol-whipped her stomach.

"By the beard of Zeus, that hurt," Rochelle groaned to herself but had no time to recover as she could hear both soldiers' feet take off the ground and try to kick her while she was down. She skillfully dodged both by kneeling down in a split second, using her own momentum to stand up in front of them. Even with their abilities, Cole was right; they were still civilians who got a crash course. Wasting no time, Ro spun a roundhouse kick to knock both men to the ground. Dr. McKinley smiled satisfied at her creation's results. "Game to me, sergeant," she mocked while the soldier stood watch, unimpressed. "Something tells me that if you don't keep a check on them, you'll lose more than the game."

Both representatives of the two government agencies then quietly observed as their best products regrouped; one to congratulate their teammate and the other to see if they were still breathing.


	7. Camera Diary Entry 005

A/N: Because this was a response to the demonstration, this chapter's painfully short but there's a change of pace and a new mystery added to the Rhamnusia Strain/Legion experiments our Survivors participated in. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe

* * *

**Chapter 7: Camera Diary Entry 005**

[_The camera screen comes alive but it's Ellis laying on his bed, a deeply thoughtful expression on his face. He's wearing his old overalls from Savannah along his shirt and his hands are toying with a pen. One of his legs swings lazily in empty space._] What they did t' Ro wasn't right; we ain' gonna hurt anybody. An' it was 'cause Sgt. Cole don't like CEDA. God fearin' men treat people righ' no matter th' circumstances. Either side's wrong anyway; we ain' things t' be kicked aroun' fo' fun but we ain' superior t' 'em.

Coach called us "an extraordinary chance mash-up" an' we shoul' help our fellow man. I couldn' believe Nick actually agreed with him but I ain' e'er seen him so quiet befo'. Th' ol' Nick an' Coach woul' bitch at each other until they were blue 'n th' face. All he said was tha' we were bett'r off outside them walls, survivin' like we used to. I saw him in his room an' saw him slit his throat...jus' to see if he could survive it. [_A chuckle slipped out of El's mouth._] Let's jus' leave it tha' Nick was cursin' a lot while tha' creepy line closed up.

After th' demonstration, most soldiers' been avoidin' us like we were infected o' som'thin' an' it's been kinda harsh on th' side. On th' otha hand, CEDA's spoilin' us rotten or tryin' to. We got more base privileges like computer access an' stuff. I finally foun' the missin' starter parts from a discarded armored tank when I heard Dr. Holden talk 'bout som'thin' called the alpha series. I didn't pay much attention t' it 'cause Ro an' Coach had to go on their job. They'd be in Harrison County

"Can't leave the grime alone, can you?" Nick caught me off guard while I finished up fixin' th' jeep. "No way; gotta keep mahself from goin' batshit, now," I told 'im; damn tha' jeep was beautiful. "And here I thought your little diary was enough," tha' conman was ne'er gonna get let tha' go but I saw his deck of cards dancin' in his hands. "I believe I owe you a game." Tha's all I needed t' stop workin' on the car and plop my ass on a table.

Nick coul' cut cards like a Vegas showgal when he started dealin' fo' Texas Hold 'em. He was like me when I work on th' jeep: smilin' like it's th' 4th o' July. We played God knows how many rounds because th' Sun started to come down. "Man, Nick, yew gonna clean me outta th' clothes on my back!" I had to call 'im but he jus' grinned and dealt me my las' hand. "Don't tempt me Ayellus; I haven't been able to get off in almost a month and it's starting to show," he confessed so strai'forward it was scary.

"Shit, yew need help," I tol' 'im but my face started burnin' so I stood up an' walked ov'r tha' jeep. [_A crimson tinge takes over El's face and he grins_] Don' tell Ma but I wasn' 'xactly a good Catholic while she wasn' lookin'. My last girl was Mary Louise Duke from Heights 'round a week befo' this shit went down. Haven't seen her since. When I did turn aroun' t' face Nick, he was gone but I damn near broke 'n laughter when he left a Li'l Peanut toy where his cards were. Tha' man can go th' distance t' be nice. Ro an' Coach arrived back an' they looked like shit. Three humping bastards, two Tanks an', accordin' t' Coach, too many common lookin' Hordes t' count.

Then he said som'thin' tha' migh' jus' well be th' best news ever; [_The young man's smile and mirth couldn't be contained any longer_] we're goin' solo! Granted, it's a scoutin' mission t' see if there's any viable spots fo' Survivors but it's som'thin'! Back to th' ol' killing ground, no strings attached! It's a Godsen', really! Callin' in fer th' night; gotta be up at th' ass crack o' dawn!

[_El shuts down the camera with a spring to his arm, but not before the LOW BATT flashes._]


	8. Jackson High

A/N: It's the Survivors' first mission on their own and it wouldn't be a cakewalk, now would it? And so starts the 72 hours of conditional freedom. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters (c) VALVe

**

* * *

Chapter 8: Jackson High School**

_Asscrack of dawn_ was an understatement when the call came through; the Sun's light had yet to pierce the Mississippi darkness. But these were the type of moments any uninfected human being searched for during these trying: the sounds of an untainted Earth carrying on without them. Ellis closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the morning air, just like Savannah. "You all right there, Fireball?" Nick inquired from behind, putting a black suit jacket over the sleek Army shirt and gun holster. El had to smile at the sight; they all tried to keep their own against the monotony of military life. Rochelle used her old belt, boots, and hoop earrings, and Nick had to look his sharpest…if it involved stealing suits from locations; who were they to stop him? Coach and the mechanic just kept it simple by keeping one thing: the fingerless sports gloves and the overalls. "All good, Nick," El smirked and turned towards the assigned Black Hawk helicopter.

Every trip on the helicopter was always a tense one thanks to the Infection. The pilot always wore a gas mask to prevent contamination and yet the Survivor's experience told them it wasn't always foolproof. One groan and they'd be on alert, ready to shoot. "This is Team November, arriving at Point Charlie 42, Harrison County, dropping the kids off," the pilot radioed, staying 30 feet from the top of what was a high school five months ago. It was common knowledge that children up until late teens were spared from the Infection; their undeveloped bodies could never take the strain of mutations. The remainder…they tended to perpetuate the virus just as well as the adults. The sight of the abandoned building made Coach shut his eyes in prayer, "Lord, let those children into your open arms and into Heaven's warmth." "Amen," three additional whispers chorused as they drew closer...

"All right, this is your stop!" The man behind the steer announced with a thick Midwest accent, opening the door. "You guys stake out the areas from Jackson High all the way to Vet's Memorial 25 miles down. Clear any bogies and Sierras and don't try escaping anywhere; you're due in 3 days on the rendezvous point or you'll be considered Infected and shot on sight!" "Aw, here I thought we bonded!" Nick shot back and before the pilot could retort, he already hopped off the vehicle and landed just fine. "He'll be the death of us and you marchin' boys," Coach remarked, earning a shrug from Ellis and Rochelle.

The world beneath the Survivors shifted and the light growls of the virus could be heard from below. Hundreds of the Common Infected began to migrate towards the school, some already rotting from exposure and lack of food. "Dear Lord, they jus' don' stop," Ellis whispered with an uncertain smirk, "But a' least, fo' seventy-two hours, we're free." "Couldn't have put it better myself," Rochelle quipped, pumping the military grade shotgun alive. "A'right boys an' girls, 'nough time for philosophy, time for work!" the oldest of them all yelled out and kicked the roof top entrance door wide open.

Jackson High was infested to the brim with the undead, from the senior classrooms to every closet on location so they had to split into two teams to conserve the ammo...all five wings were lined with the blood, spit, and innards of Infected. Once at the middle, Coach called a quick huddle, "Nick, take Ro to the Electives' wing, El and I were taking the Science Hall." "Careful Coach, Ellis here can make a bomb if you let 'im," Nick sniped. "Yew better hope I do," the hick shot back as they split their ways.

The Elective Wing, in its previous life, would've been easily recognized by the vibrant colors of school spirits, board announcements, and posters of every event. Now, as Death and War quietly walked the empty halls, these same decorations were a haunting reminder of what was. "Good God, what I wouldn't give to hear a kid," Rochelle murmured to herself, hoping Nick hadn't heard her maternal instincts. "Kids are too much hassle and I wouldn't-" whatever the former conman was going to say evaporated when they both heard a giggle bounce from one of the rooms.

"What the hell..." He couldn't believe what he'd heard..."Kid?" "Is anyone there?" Rochelle called out, her voice broken at the possibility, "We won't hurt you! We're to help!" They both ran as fast as they could, tracking the noise with hypersensitive ears. "It came from the music room!" The young woman exclaimed, charging ahead...could there really be a child alive? The classroom itself had been barricades with chairs and desks, further alluding to the dream. "Shit! Nick, help me move all this junk!" Rochelle implored while she desperately ripped what she could from the junk pile.

After a few dozen scraps were torn off, Nick uttered, "This is taking too long," and kicked the barricade down with brute strength. To be fair, there was a child in the decimated room...on a videotape about music around the world. Both Survivors looked at each other with a mixture of sadness and relief; no one had been in the room for as long as the infection. Even the graffiti was old: it still talked about covering the mouths and it being flu, not the mutagen. Then the sound that still haunted them dawned...the manic laughter of a jockey and the growls of multiple hunters. "Fuck, too soon!" Nick managed to snipe before aimed and started shooting.

~0~

The science halls still held vestiges of the life before: charts and outstanding projects littered the hall. "Shit," Ellis slipped under his breath, reading the _"Well done!" _notes on the papers and the school announcements. Coach himself, was painfully quiet, keeping his eyesight focused on the hallway. His mind was a cruel thing…replaying scenes of his old life: greeting his teams, meeting the faculty for a quick snack, his wife calling to make sure he'd be home for dinner. In fact, by the time the Infection hit, the oldest of the Survivors had stayed behind at the high school he wore so proudly, to insure the students' safety.

"Coach?" the hick's voice snapped him out of the reverie; daydreams were proven death sentences in this brave new world. "Y'all okay?" The forlorn smile escaped Famine's face, giving El a hint at what troubled him. "I'm fine, youn'un'…jus' this mind of mine playin' tricks on me. Coul' almost hear th' kids runnin' around," Coach answered then turned on his heels to enter one of the slightly open classrooms. Just then, both heard the distinctive echo of bullets firing and Rochelle's yelling for help through the clutter noise. "Fuck!" the mechanic spat but before he could so much as spin, a slimy tentacle of a tongue shot and wrapped around his neck and yanked him inside.

"Aw hell naw, not this shit again!" the older black man roared, grabbing El's hand before he disappeared and pulled back on the Smoker's prey. In that one instant of rage, Coach launched his fist at full force at the Infected, the pressure itself blowing green blood and brains where the head hanged. Both the body and the appendage fell lifeless on the ground, allowing El to choke out and stand up. "Nick an' Ro need help," he wheezed out, grabbing the AK and a knife. "Don' hafta tell me twice…"

~0~

The situation was bad and it didn't take Nick's dissolving vision to see that. This Hunter had already torn his shirt and apparently figured out that ripping flesh wasn't going to kill him so he resorting to strangulation. The conman choked on both the increasing pressure and the red that had been pulling because of the spontaneous regeneration; he was practically drowning in his own blood. Rochelle was too busy keeping the Jockey off her back with a knife, swiping every time the laughing atrocity came too close. "C'mon, you little bastard; show me whatchu got…"

Meanwhile, the card shark's right hand desperately searched for a weapon, _any_ weapon, to get the eyeless freak off him. The instant he grabbed a table leg with nails, he slammed it straight into the Hunter's head. The sound of cracking bone and brain tissue was enough and the creature fell completely dead on Nick's side. "And you will _stay _down," he grumbled just as the cavalry arrived. "You could've called; we would've made tea," Nick spat at Ellis, who tossed him a handgun regardless. "Y'mean beer, right?"

The massacre lasted another hour, all four running on pure adrenaline. "We're ne'er gonna get outta here at this rate! They jus' keep comin'!" the mechanic yelled out as even more Infected stormed the school. The Horde was endless, hungry, and their makeshift 70% Ethanol Molotovs were starting to run out…Things were finally going to shit when Coach spotted the bell system. "Then let 'em come…" he surmised then shot one of the auxiliary bells. The whole school rang alive in its swan song, calling forth every last of the drones in the next couple of blocks.

All three of the remaining Survivors looked at the ex-football player as if he had lost his damn mind. "You better have something outstanding or we're going to finally die…and I expected to go in my sleep," Rochelle said what everyone else was thinking. "Nah, we still have plenty o' living left, boys an' girls," Coach grinned as he dove down and took out every pipe bomb the military had in stock. Nick caught on to the plan and hoarded every last flammable liquid in the chemistry lab. He remembered some basic reactions and put water, pure sodium and magnesium in glass bottles, creating shrapnel bombs that took the edge before the invasions.

"And now it's time to bail!" Coach commanded, heading towards the second floor windows, the rest following suit. The loud ringing noise as well as the flashing display the makeshift shrapnel created insured that most if not all of the local zombie population would be present for around 7 accumulated pounds of C4 to explode in their faces. Landing on their feet, the Survivors watched as the entire lobby of Jackson High was engulfed in flames and body parts sprayed outward. "Remin' me ne'er t' piss yew off when this is all said an' done," Ellis remarked with an earnest smile, a perplexing sight. "Whatchu smilin' about, kiddo?" the oldest of them inquired while they got back on their tracks. "Well think 'bout it…we jus' destroyed our radios an' we're not due at th' checkpoint fer a while an'ways…" the eternal optimist commented, dusting glass off his hat. "Fo' th' next three days…we're free again."


	9. Makeshift Eden

A/N: A little slowdown in activity to settle in as the Survivors adjust to their temporary freedom. Short summary, yes, but hey, it's a relatively quiet chapter. Enjoy!

A/N 2: Fixed all the typos!

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters (c) VALVe

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Chapter 9: Makeshift Eden

By the time the others internalized Ellis said, he was already off and about, searching for anything that could resemble homely pleasures...like beer. It didn't take long but the mechanic was notorious in his short attention span. As the group left Jackson High, Coach gave the smoldering lobby remains one last look goodbye, goodbye to the memories. "You okay there, Coach?" Nick asked while Rochelle hopped to catch up with the so-called baby of the team. "Y'all keep askin' that, I'll start thinkin' somethin's wrong fo' real," the football coach remarked, putting his now-empty semiautomatic away. "We ask because we care...now let's see if there's chocolate around," Nick teased, sarcasm always present but less markedly so.

The town itself still stood on its hunches, like the school, but with considerably less Infected thanks to the mass extermination. The isolation was evident the moment the group crossed the third block: it looked like that episode of The Twilight Zone. Entire community centers had been turned into impromptu CEDA diagnostic stations, with plenty of test and first aid kits collecting dust, unused. By what remained, Harrison County has been hastily evacuated when the Infection took over.

"Shouldn' we, I dunno, hold a moment o' silence?" Ellis reasoned while putting away his empty assault rifle. "By this point, we'd need an hour to do it justice," Rochelle sighed out. "And we all know Fireball here will explode if he stays quiet for more than 10 minutes," the conman added. "Yer one t' talk- Holy shit is that a Harley?" The mechanic could barely contain his excitement; just a few feet away was a barley stained hog, Guns 'N Roses paint job intact. "Sweet Jesus it is!"

As Ellis ran off, the rest realized a very particular facet of their new lives: as long as they were outside the walls of Meridian, the world was theirs to do as they pleased. Coach couldn't help the rumbling laugh that slipped out before telling Nick and Ro, "Y'all can have some fun, I'll find us a sturdy safehouse." "Make sure it has running water!" The only woman in the team requested as she headed east towards a shopping village. What? Even a genetically enhanced assassin has to indulge her taste!

Nick was busy mourning a crashed Jaguar, "This is inhumane...Ellis! Can you fix this thing?" El popped his head out from the underside of the bike and shook. "Naw man, tha's voodoo grade fixin' an' no self-respectin' Catholic admits t' tha'!" An idea sprung up in Nick's brain as he broke a sport terrain car's window. "I'm going out for food; I'm starving..."

Coach settled on a 4-room model apartment for their campsite, plumbing included but no fridge to speak of. "So whaddya we got?" He inquired, looking through his makeshift family's bags as the Sun languidly disappeared into the metropolitan horizon. "Well, I found loads o' beer, chips, an' some first aid kits at th' gas post," Ellis responded, taking out a couple of six-paks of liquid bread. "Glory be, I'd never thought I'd miss beer tha' much!" Famine exclaimed then turned to War, "whatchu got, Baby Girl?" Rochelle spilled her supply bag's contents, a pile of clothing and munitions like there was tomorrow. "Fresh clothes and ammo courtesy of the town mall. Hope I got y'all sizes right." Clothes had proven to be an understated necessity during their first run of the Apocalypse; clean threads provided much more endurance and helped hygiene. Both Nick and Ellis spotted a strange red dress hidden away in the other bag.

"Hope you all can cook worth something, because," the conman concluded while zipping open his own duffle, full to the brim with canned and powdered food, "this is our dinner and breakfast. I'm going nowhere near that rotting wasteland of a supermarket." "So that's why you stink more than usual?" Coach sniped instantly. "Ha ha, cute. Now you'll excuse me," Nick retorted, grabbing the black suit and shirt, "I'm going to go take a bath," and exited the kitchen. Ellis bit back a laugh and said, "I'mma go ahead check out 'em rooms an' see if anyone's been here." "I'll start cookin' a gumbo y'all never gonna forget," the oldest member nodded while he took what he needed from the pile.

Letting the water droplets slide along his skin made Nick's eyes close and breathe more slowly. His left foreman was covered in a flimsy bandage, covering up not a wound but something he had before he raided the market. As soon as a smile crept up to his face, Nick saw something move out of the corner of his eyes. Instantly, he grabbed his handgun and stepped outside the shower, surveying the area for intruders in and outside the bathroom. With no one and nothing out in the hall, the conman shrugged and sniffed the air, a residue mannerism from having Hunter senses; the only smells he picked up were Ellis, Rochelle, and the spices Coach was using to cook.

As soon as he closed the door however, the hick landed from the ceiling and quietly sighed from relief. His face was flushed and now he had the image of a very wet and very naked Nick in his mind. _I ain' no queer but DAMN_, El thought, using a naked Spitter to dissuade any stray reactions to who was essentially his brother-at-arms. It was then that he spotted a flash of red cloth in Rochelle's room.

Gone was the military wear and the boots, in the middle of the gender-neutral room stood not a soldier but a woman in a flowing crimson gown. She even let her shoulder-length hair down, curls shaping her bosom, giving Rochelle a heart-shaped profile. "I take it back, yer th' an-gel here," snapped her out of reverie. "Ellis!" The young woman was startled and then sighed out, "Dear Lord, I forget how sneaky we can be to each other." Resigned, she sat down on the floor and grabbed her watch. "You must think I'm being selfish," she started out. "I don' think tha', was too busy wonderin' why yew were so sad," Ellis corrected, that eternal smile on his face. Rochelle gave him a forlorn smile back as she replied,

"Every girl wants to feel like a princess sometime in their lives...even girls who've been turned into human weapons." "Nah, don't think like tha'; yer still yew right?" The mechanic asked, already knowing the answer. "C'mon, dinner's ready an' I know Nick an' Coach woul' love t' see yew in tha'." The hick suppressed the still fresh mental photograph as he helped Rochelle stand up. "As if I'm eating gumbo on a $12,000 dress," Ro shot back and punched Ellis on his right arm. "$12,000? Shit, I can get a junker fo' less!" "Fuck you! You were just telling me I was an _an_gel!" As the four Survivors converged over a pot of the flavored rice, that small apartment was the only source of light and activity in the town, at least uninfected in the zombie Eden.


	10. Ink

A/N: The second day on the conditional freedom and two of the Horsemen get new ink on their skin. If these feel like the calm before a big storm, then you'd be right. In the meantime, enjoy! Both excerpts come from the Book of Revelation on the New Testament of the Bible.

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters (c) VALVe

A/N EDIT: Thank you Aunty Soshul for pointing out the discrepancy! Corrected!

**

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Chapter 10: Ink**

The next twenty-four hours were lost among the many things. Each of the Survivors did something that rekindled memories of their old lives, ranging from the men watching a long forgotten Patriots vs. Saints game while Rochelle caught up with her journalistic drive by making a scrapbook of articles. Breakfast had never tasted so damn good and she received her proper accolades with making powdered eggs edible. It was during the taped breaks in the game that Ellis asked Nick, "Wha' happened t' yer arm?" while pointing at the almost hidden bandage. "This?" The conman checked and grinned slightly before he unwrapped the straps. El's eyes widened at the sight; two lines of text written in his friend's forearm in a language he didn't recognize. "Made it myself during my side visit to the market. Strangely enough, the tattoo parlor was besides a bakery," Nick explained rather proud.

"God tha' musta hurt like a bitch! Whut is it?" The mechanic inquired further, trying to make sense of the tattoo. "It's Hindi," the card shark answered with a shrug; he knew he was giving away sensitive information about himself but he didn't care; they were practically family. "Yer Indian? Honest t' God I thought yew were Italian!" "Bangladesh, mother's side; my father was the Italian. Not everybody's pure hick like _yew_, _Ayeluss._" Ellis felt slight annoyance at that last part but played it up once Coach arrived at the living room. "It's a mighty shame half those kids are eatin' brains," he commented, dark humor oozing. There they watched the conclusion over a beer until it came time to move out.

Just before leaving, the Survivors left the first graffitti on the perfectly unstained walls. Coach left a message for someone named Flo, Rochelle for Jacob and Ellis to Keith. Nick made no message to anyone but rather a general statement, _Trade a BJ for cigarettes_. "Yer really willin' t' go down on a guy fer smokes?" El could barely contain the snickering. "The supply I won off the soldiers ran out before this job. But I'm more surprised you even know what that means," the conman smirked back. "Yew manwhore..." "Are you two done flirting?" Rochelle cut the banter short with a smile, "there's still a lot of ground to cover before the sun sets."

Again, understatement as the four made their way down the building, leaving behind some nonperishable supplies for any other Survivor to use. There were still 12 miles from the target zone and were making average time considering the distractions. Black helicopters flew the sky overhead, reminding them all they were still being watched. "Don' want to lose their new toys," Coach growled under his breath. "Hey look at the bright side; we're worth more than a nuke," Ro added with equal disdain. At a considerable distance, Ellis came up to Nick and requested, "Can yew make me a tattoo like yers?" The card shark grinned with his answer, "Next safe-house, Overalls, IF there's a parlor nearby." The mechanic lit up and started thinking of something kickass to etch on his skin.

That relative peace didn't last long, shattering into a million (or more exactly 2094 and a charger) pieces when a stray touch to a car activated the alarm. "Shit!" Nick hissed as they all reloaded their guns and started firing. The intensity of the Hordes made things seem that the assault on Jackson High was a minor inconvenience to the Apocalypse; it was as if the Infected propagated through mere eye contact. In one instance, there were so many that they toppled Coach and pinned him to the ground to devour him whole. "Jesus Christ, get these things off me!" He yelled as every scratch reconstructed as fast as first contact. "I'mma comin' big guy!" Ellis responded but was suddenly cut off by the one-armed behemoth in a single tackle. The moment the charger slammed him into the asphalt, El felt his left arm pop out of its socket, arousing a scream of pain. Just as the charger was going to crush him under his massive arm, the mechanic saw the conman hop over the monster and land a solid shotgun blast to its face.

"You all right, Ellis?" Nick asked, firing another blast at the headless zombie, _just_ to make sure it was dead. "I'll be fine, jus' gotta pop it back 'n place…yew go help Coach," El groaned as he dragged himself back on his feet. "He's peachy right now," the card shark remarked with a grin through the blood bath; Rochelle did look her loveliest with a machete. Thankfully, no Tanks or Witches came into the fray nor did any Boomers to aggravate the situation. Standing over a decrepit CEDA worker corpse, the young woman scanned the area for any more bullet fodder still standing. "Guess…that's it…" Ro practically whispered to herself, bewildered at that. "No, we just blew up their back-up twenty four hours ago," the oldest remarked with a satisfied grin. "Jus' as long as we get t' a safe-house an'-" Everyone present HEARD Nick reposition Ellis' arm back into place. "JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THA' FOR?" "So you wouldn't bitch about it later."

Contrary to the first day, the Survivors kept going well into the night, eyes shining slightly in the dark thanks to their adaptive nature. With ammo halfway depleted but no real exhaustion to their walk, they continued on until they were only seven miles to the checkpoint at the Veteran's Hospital. Their new safe house had once been a citadel for CEDA, where evidence of discarded tests and a bloody massacre had taken place before it was reinforced. "How are the scratches, Coach?" Rochelle inquired as the last scar of the Infected-caused wounds disappeared. "Nothin' too harsh," was his trite answer as he dumped the weapons into a corner and grabbed a slightly dented car of warm beer. "Guess this is our last night o' freedom…better make it count."

There was a collective downturn in the atmosphere: in twenty-two hours, the military would scoop them up and put them away in their stale white boxes for God knows how much time. "Anyone wants to cuddle?" Nick sneered while spreading his arms mockingly. The little snide comment broke the depression just enough for War to laugh and shoot back, "Nick, if you didn't get some before all this shit, what makes you think you're getting any _now_?" "Propagation of the new species and McKinley sadly didn't give El a vagina." "HEY!"

"C'mon, Nick, yew promised" Ellis nudged in an almost feline manner to his napping comrade, lantern at hand. "Ellis, I'm trying to sleep," Nick grumbled under his sleeping bag's covers; his bloodied watch read 3:45 am. "Yer lying; we don' sleep tha' much an'more," the mechanic added rather morose, causing his elder to stir…kid was telling the truth. Ever since waking up from the experiment, they could go on for days without sleep (El's record was 5 and half) then crash hard for 18 hours or more. Maybe that's why the military coordinated their jobs to coincide with waking periods. In some of those dreamless rests, Nick wondered how long they could sleep or hibernate. "Fine…lead the way, kiddo," he groaned, taking his katana and quietly jumping out of the third floor.

They both ran the two miles down from the CEDA station to Patty's Tattoos, a place whose broken window and general disarray meant that there was a moderate scuffle prior to the owner's disappearance. "Jeez, Overalls; not much to work with here!" Nick's disdain was evident but Ellis would not be dissuaded. "Th' machine still works an' we've got a first aid kit to patch me up." Flicking on the fluorescent light, Nick grabbed some stencil paper and a drawing pencil. "Whaddya want?" Ellis smirked before responding, planting his ass on the chair to make himself comfortable, "First y'tell me whatchu got on yers." Nick held back a laugh as he mixed the inks and changed the needles on the machine for hygienic purposes. "_Isakē savāra kī mauta nāmita kiyā gayā thā, aura naraka pāsa usakē pīchē pīchā kara rahā thā.__"_

"…Yer momma," Ellis shot, face blank at the string of syllables." "It means 'Its rider was named Death, and Hell was following close behind him... '," the conman concluded, "Now what do you want on yours? And make it quick; I'd like to get out of here before hunters get any funny ideas." With this new information, El quickly made up his mind and whispered it. It took a while for Nick to process the request and the look on his face bordered between mild annoyance and genuine smirk, "You fucker." "Told ya I'd get the 'Bros' tattoo, asswipe," the mechanic retorted as he held out his right forearm, just beneath his old blue tribal insignia. "Now, git t' it."

Forty minutes later, Nick was just about done with cleaning the last of the inks and nodded proud at his work. "Removing that's going to be a bitch," he said as Ellis wrapped the new tattoo in gauze. "I don' plan on it, man; yer not half bad! Now let's get th' hell outta here!" As they ran the distance, the discarded stencil read backwards in a gothic letter, reminiscent of an old Bible: "_Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest._"


	11. Airplanes become Shooting Stars

A/N: The Survivors' last day of freedom and they lead through the maze that is the Harrison County Vets' hospital and return to the Meridian base. Like always, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe

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Chapter 11: Airplanes become Shooting Stars**

The next day, it seemed that the Infected could sense the military's plans and wanted to ensure their meaningless survival through killing those left behind. Thanks to their little escapade, Nick and Ellis were up and at it since 4:30 in the morning. "Let's get going; I saw Hunters and Spitters around and I like this suit too much," the conman chided as he reloaded his shotgun and his handgun. His sword lay besides El's and Rochelle's machete, the only three in the group. After showing above-average adaptability in melee weapons during the brief Special-Ops training, Cole granted the Survivors early on to pick their poison. With these, the Horsemen could still clear the land even without ammo. Only Coach refused. "Shit, they're looking hungry today...do you think they know?" Ro asked while watching the chaos downstairs. "I dunno an' I don' care t' find out," Ellis quipped.

The last stretch of the job would have been easier if the Army would also let them use flamethrowers but Mollies would have to do as both the conman and the ex-football player lit their remaining alcohol into the psychotic crowds. "Die, die, die, my darlings, DIE!" Ellis yelled gleefully while the flames consumed everything in its radius. He really took Coach's words to heart and put them to practice. "I think that boy lost his damn mind," the oldest of the team stated. "You gotta admit, it's contagious...oh fuck it, let's just blow this place up!" Nick exclaimed with a grin and a reloaded Uzi, jumping headfirst into the Horde. "Boys will be boys," the ex-reporter smiled before landing a head shot into an Infected woman. Clearing the land as a way to close their job was a tribute to their old lives, to let those 'fond' memories die in peace...until the group entered the hospital.

There was an overwhelming sense of despair within the walls, akin to being trapped in an unlocked room. White walls stood with paint flaking off, falling on piles mixed with the already blackened mounds of remains. Body bags, waiting for transport, now covered in the last flies leftover from the last waves of decomposition were haphazardly piled and some torn to shreds by possible Hunters or worse, Witches. The previous day forced a realization onto the Horsemen: they were still pretty damn human. CEDA posters were covered by military posters denoting the use of lethal force if necessary and Coach couldn't shake the feeling that he and his temporary family would become exactly that: instruments of death.

"Shoul' we split up? Sun's high yet an' we can cover more ground tha' way," the mechanic reasoned, convening for the moment in front of a hospital map, covering all six floors and basement. "Then Nick, take th' youn' un and cover the basement up to the 3rd floor while me an' Baby Girl take the 4th to the roof," the ex-football player commanded, the memory of their last split quite vivid in his mind. "Gee Coach, got any creepier places to send us?" Nick whined mostly humorous and a fraction of apprehension...there was a guaranteed crying whore in one of those floors. "Aw, are yew scared, Nicky?" El shot impishly, for which he got shoved with the assault rifle handle. "Any trouble, just holler!" Rochelle warned before she and Coach disappeared up the emergency stairs.

"How's the itching?" Nick inquired after he sniped a Boomer from three floors above. "Iss almos' gone but man, yer pretty damn good at makin' tats," the mechanic shrugged as he removed the bandages and tossed them aside; the letters stood out against his tanned skin, visible from every angle. "Kid, I'm halfway tempted about asking about _your_ own life…then I remember you're a goddamn open book with speakers," the conman retorted before he jumped over the staircases and landed on top of the halved corpse with nothing but a splash of blood on his shoes. He knew the general aspects of his partner's life and the borderline retarded things he'd done with Keith. Hell, he should've been made like them, that damn hillbilly was impervious to permanent damage! But even he had to smile slightly: Ellis wasn't as dumb as everyone made him out to be…just like everyone naturally assumed Nick was an asshole or Rochelle was the sane one. Girl could come up with insane plans just as well as the hick…

The line of thought came to a stop when the kid dropped down beside the conman, cocking his shotgun to signal he was ready. "We can't go up that way again or we might miss an Infected," Nick said, looking up the emergency stairs. "Whaddya think CEDA an' th' military's gonna do with this dump? It don' look like a great place t' move from Meridian," Ellis reasoned, scratching his hair under his hat. "Lesson learned sport; don't ask questions you clearly don't want to know the answers to," the older of the two shut the discussion and began walking down the basement halls. The bloodstained signs still read "MORGUE", "PATHOLOGY LAB", and "CHAPEL", as well as the unlit arrows to follow to the other emergency stair cases. Both men's eyes lit up as their dilated pupils captured what few light they could, quite different from the infected sickly yellow glow.

The morgue was infested with blowflies and maggots, meaning that whatever was down there had recently killed. "God, I suddenly miss th' bayou..." Ellis hissed, trying to keep the bile down and not add to the pestilence. "Agreed..." Suddenly, they both heard a pitiful wail; crying bitch coming up. That's when the conman noted that most of the fresh kills were in fact Infected..."Careful El, you're Witch candy."

"Whatchu say?" The mechanic almost didn't hear the warning and almost nudged the Special Infected himself before Nick yanked him back. The Witch growled annoyed but not yet startled then returned to her sobs. "Tha' was too damn close!" Ellis mumbled while his partner set up the high caliber sniper rifle. Even in the almost pitch black darkness, Nick located his target, the temples, in his scope, "Like I said, Witch candy," then took one breath. The shot was loud as fuck but it did its job beautifully as red and pink flowered from the Witch's head. "She cleared this floor, let's keep going."

Rochelle never knew how much of her reporting expertise would come in handy here but basic knowledge of biology had her picking up the particular scent of fungi. The sound of coughing was the last she needed to know that a Smoker was near along with other Infected. The stained windows and disheveled beds spoke volumes of the Green flu tearing through the hospital: this was ground zero for the propagation in the city. "Shit...no Molotovs or pipe bombs left, Baby Girl," Coach grimaced while reloading his rifle. "Figures," she groaned but kept her head level as the older of the two led her into one of the open bedrooms. A couple of oxygen tanks were nearby, perfect for bombs only if both could compensate for the metal's resistance. "Or we could make something just as good," Rochelle's eyes lit up with a forming idea.

Grabbing a short pipe and a rubber hose, the ex-reporter tied them together and attached the hose end to the nozzle of one of the tanks. She then flicked a nearby match left by a dead man and watched the fire dance. "Oh hell yeah! Flamethrowers!" Coach hollered and followed her example. By the time he whistled to alert the Horde, both were decimating their numbers and setting the floors on fire. Dragging the cumbersome cylinders to the center of the floor was taxing but well worth the effort; the fire raged on, efficiently killing every last Infected by asphyxia, burns, or jumping to their demise to escape either. "Burn baby bu-OH SHIT TANK!" Rochelle's cheer was cut off by the roars of the biggest Infected known at the moment.

As the pair ran up the side stairs, the rumbling terror chased them up to the fifth floor, even through the flames and the hail of fire. The Hordes came at both Famine and War with the same ferocity, getting torn to pieces by the Tank in its blind rage. "We'll never outrun them!" Ro shouted as her automatic clicked empty and promptly discarded in favor of a Desert Eagle. Now it was Coach's turn to think up a plan and it was his riskiest yet. "Run to them windows and hold on to the edge!" He ordered as they both tackled the large opening. Just as he predicted, the Tank followed them to the edge but missed the crucial step of grabbing onto the building's walls. As Ellis and Nick hurried up the stairs to aid their friends, they both heard a howl then a loud thud noise on the ground below.

"I'm starting to doubt your sanity, Coach!" Rochelle laughed hard while they held tight. "Baby Girl, you can't get outta a zombie apocalypse all righ' in the head!" Coach argued as he tried to pull himself only to be aided a hand in a bloody black suit. "We're guessin' tha' Tank splat was yer handiwork?" The mechanic asked with a grin. "Tank BOMB, thank you very much." There wasn't much left of the Veterans' Hospital left to explore or kill; whatever the Smoker, the Witch, or the Tank didn't find, starvation finished it off. "This is some grim shit..." Rochelle let slip as the Survivors made their way to the sixth floor: Maternity.

There no evidence of babies being born there in the last few weeks, but it was disturbing to see the amount of bloody beds both big and small. "Worst birth control ever," Nick added, practically numb at the sights; he suddenly remembered that his ex-wife, Sofia, wanted kids but for all the wrong reasons. Ellis spotted that quiet change and patted the conman's shoulder while offering a kind smile. "Let's just the fuck out of here; I suddenly miss Cole's threats," he brushed the kid away.

The helicopter hovered over the setting sun like a floating shark over the once-flourishing town, casting its shadow over the Horsemen bloody trail. Of course the pilot never landed on the building but instead hovered low enough for them to hop on and high enough for any getaway. "Damn, we almost hoped you guys would go AWOL!" The pilot, same one that dropped the Survivors off three days earlier, came back for seconds but there was no backtalk today. Contrary to their almost carefree attitude at the beginning of the job, they were sullen and quiet, practically mourning their slowly disappearing freedom. And just as Holden had predicted and Ellis had observed, all four of them nodded off during the two-hour trip in a state of hibernation.

By the time the helicopter arrived, the CEDA workers, in their Haz-Mat suits, dragged each one of the modified Survivors into a restraint bed, to be taken back into the laboratories. Sgt. Cole personally took watch of the situation, impressed at the success rate these _things_ were achieving. "Now if only McKinley could start that vaccine and cure," he said to himself as he closed the Alpha Series file. That mistake and its sole survivor would have to be eradicated soon; the forty-something soldier knew that playing God only made things worse. So he made it his responsibility that not only would these human weapons be kept in check by his command, but also ensure the survival of Meridian and all the remaining Army bases.


	12. Camera Diary Entry 006

A/N: Yes, I went there but let me make my case before you, the reader hit the Back button and stop reading altogether. I do ship this pairing but I don't reject others and there's space to explore. Two, I see this pairing as having an intense friendship where they could occasionally give in but sex's not the focus. Third, the assumption that desperation suddenly makes people gay is a fallacy, but what isn't is that it does bring out some issues that were pushed away to allow survival. That said and done, enjoy and let your mind fill in the blanks!

DISCLAIMER: all recognizable characters (c) VALVe

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Chapter 12: Camera Diary Entry 006**

[_The camera comes back online and fully charged as it sits on the bedside table but Ellis is no longer the cheerful young man…he sits on his bed, hugging his knees and keeping his sobs to a minimum. Crimson tears flow out of his blue eyes, a unique and intended side-effect of the Legion Experiments. He wipes the drops away and stares at his red fingertips.]_

I shoulda listened t' Nick an' Coach; don' go snoopin' around fer answers yew don' really want. I foun' out _exactly_ wha' happened t' th' poor souls tha' had did this done befo' us…they got exterminated. Rochelle told me befo' th' Harrison job tha' she was hearin' someone rantin' below her real faint an' she was meanin' to look into it with McKinley. Doc told us tha' it was one o' her survivin' interns or som' other shit but Ro ain' stupid.

The night after we returned from our job an' got properly cleaned; me an' Baby Girl wen' downstairs to see wha' was up with 'em noises. Ro told the guard on duty she an' I were gonna handle th' shift o' som'thin' like tha'. Poor kid wasn't even 18 an' he looked tired as fuck so he jus' up an' left t' sleep. [_The crying stopped and the mechanic sighed out._] After tha', it was jus' a matter o' findin' th' right room.

[_Interference between the recordings show Rochelle and Ellis walking down the white halls of the CEDA labs_._ They then make a stop at Cell 4A and stay there, as if observing_. _The video feed switches back to the still sitting young man as he kicked his boots off._]

Th' poor man had been confined t' a tiny box o' a cell, walls all scribbled up in gibberish, with a measly plate o' rotten food. He clearly lost his fuckin' mind but…he didn' look _Infected_ or like us. It was as if he were stuck in an inbetween sorta place. Kept talkin' 'bout th' execution squads in Baghdad an' Tehran, how many o' his friends had died o'er there while the United States went t' th' shitter with th' Infection. [_A sudden shudder runs all over El's body at the next memory_] But th' moment Rochelle tried t' reach out…the guy looked at us an', for th' love of e'erything tha's righ', he fuckin' _smiled _at us an' said, "Yer next." We bailed outta there like bats outta Hell an' told Coach an' Nick all 'bout it. I coul'n' read either o' their faces but… [_There's a hitch in his breath,_] I saw fear.

He got executed poin' blank at th' range, Cole makin' us stay or we'd get shocked six ways t' Sunday. Th' guy apparently got a moment o' rememberin' who he was and saluted back t' th' Sarge befo' getting' turned into Swiss cheese. That…broke us an' fer th' first time since th' experimen', Ro cried. But then we foun' out we'd ne'er be normal ag'in…McKinley fucked our bodies up so bad, we don' cry normal tears; we cry blood.

[_A few silent tears slip out of Ellis' eyes but he catches them in time_.]

I decided t' play 'round with th' vents, like tha' guy from Half-Life; jus' t' see how far it coul' get me. Honest t' God, I would've been a happy man if yesterday ne'er happened: buncha people gettin' shot up with th' same stuff as we did but not as strong…Holden was takin' notes an' kept markin' 'em as INFECTED, NO CHANGES: CARRIERS, then tellin' the soldiers t' put 'em away fer _cleansin_'. These were goddamn people, with families prolly waitin' fo' 'em som'where! But I coul'n' say nuthin'; tha' bitch _enjoyed _punishin' us. I bailed th' fuck outta those vents jus' in time fo' Cole t' tell us tha' we were due at th' range an' handed us th' guns. He hadta practically drag Coach with five men but I had this horrible feelin'…

We were s'pposed t' execute them ourselves; the previous guy was like a trainin' exercise. Even Nick tried t' fight his way outta doin' th' task on principle until Cole ordered all guns t' point at us. It was either us o' them but I read som'where we don' have a choice...jus' an illusion of havin' a choice. That happened o'er 25 hours ago an' I can still hear 'em...beggin' not t' shoot. I coul'n' open my eyes but I pulled th' trigger. [_The silent tears become trails contouring his face._] No one 'xcept fer th' military an' CEDA left with a good taste in their mouths. I ain' ne'er seen shit this fucked in th' head an-

[_Ellis stops speaking to acknowledge a new presence in the room. His head cocks as he wipes the tears away._] Nick, whatcha doing here? [_"Don' take this personally, El," that's all the conman says before he makes his way into the room._] Yer jus' bein' a selfish asshole. [_"Damn right." Nick's smile is worn and so is the rest of his body language. The mechanic isn't stupid and he sits up off screen. There's a light wet sound and a growl from Ellis, one uncertain but eager for something._] This ain' righ'...but I'mma burn in Hell an'ways. [_"Ellis, we're already in Hell," Nick's voice sounds feral and wanting, "What's a fuck here or there?" A red sleeved hand comes into view as it grips El's thigh._] An' Rochelle?

[_Nick's sneaking hand stops as he reacts in a whisper, "What about her? I want you better." The apparent culprit, denial of touch, is all gone. "Our little secret."_] Like I wanna go 'round tellin' ev'ryone yer my fuck-buddy...though it's real temptin'. [_Now it's Ellis' turn to be dominant and he pulls the older man onto him, locked by their lips and exploratory touches. Nick rolls his hips onto the mechanic's and his reaction is a sharp breath. "You moron," is the last thing the conman is seen saying until he unintentionally tosses his suit jacket over the camera, concealing the act. The sounds of quick breaths and groans as the shadows move in a rough harmony on the small bed._]

[_Then Nick stops and says, "Lick these..." which Ellis obeys, new to this. The shadows then show him in both pain and pleasure as the conman's shadow melts into the mechanic's and the younger of the two is shouting in desperation. The double-back shadow now has a new variety of sounds and motions, El's arching off the bed and legs wrapping around Nick's waist.]_

[_It's all over when everything goes quiet and both Death and Conquest are left breathless. Nick's shadow rolls to the side, disappearing for the time being._] Not bad fer my first gay screw, huh? [_"You could do worse," Nick's voice was muffled by the sheets but the smile was evident, "you almost broke my dick off." The conman then stands up from the bed and grabs his clothes, uncovering the camera and revealing a naked Ellis using his towel to wipe a small mess on his stomach._] Dontchu kiss yer whores after yer done?

[_El says that with a Cheshire grin. "Not particularly but since you're genetically my pseudo-brother and staying this long in the South is making me into a redneck," Nick shrugs offscreen and gives the kid a long and languid kiss. "Our little secret, got it?"_] Yeah, yeah now git befo' Cole's gonna have 'nother reason t' shoot us down. [_Nick uttered something almost inaudible but the Southern caught it._] No problem, man.

[_It's not until the room's door is closed that Ellis notices the camera's still on. His eyes widen and he breaks out in laughter._] Holy shit, Nick's gonna kill me... [_The mechanic finally shuts the camera off for the rest of the night._]


	13. Camera Diary Entry 007

A/N: This chapter brings a new perspective into the situation as it's Nick, not Ellis, with the camera. More insight into the world _after _the Infections are given as well as the fates of some of the Survivors' family and loved ones, particularly Keith because...goddamn, the bastard lives on. Yes, the [BEEP] are there for a reason: just a little homage to _Kill Bill vol. 1_, catch the scene where it's used. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters (c) VALVe

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Chapter 13: Camera Diary Entry 007**

[_The video screen comes to life but it's not Ellis who's recording. Nick manages with the device for a second,_] Sea la mierda... [_Then figures it out and sits down in his own room. His old white suit and blue shirt hang almost pristine on the wall behind if with some ancient blood stains left. His katana is lying by his right side and his hands are without his old rings._]

I only stole this thing from Overalls to see what the little pussy wrote in his diary but I might as well give it a shot since it's so therapeutic. [_His voice is dripping with sarcasm but then he sighs out._] Two weeks ago, I wasn't on my best state of mind; none of us were. We killed ten people that day...none of them infected. I've done my share of stupid and fucked up things but...I've never had to shoot someone in the back. [_He rubs his eyes to stave off the remaining sleep._]

We've been sent to two other jobs after Harrison County: one up to Florida to clear out some Witch and Spitter nest formerly a _Girls Gone Wild_ shoot and the other back to Savannah. It felt slightly nostalgic to go back to where it all got started, at least for this fucked-up family of mine. Kid still has nightmares about those ten Carriers, so he tends to look for comfort in my bed and comes back to his room walking funny. I'm thinking he might be a masochist or something because the last time he tried to top me, I kicked his ass and he _still _came back to be my ride.

I've been doing my thing for a while now, playing poker games between jobs, but not only do I get my nicotine fix...I've been using these games as a way to get information. [_His hands now toy with his worn-out deck of cards, flicking them into a hat under the camera._] Some of the runts here tell me there are survivor colonies forming all over the United States, where the old cities used to be. Problem is that most, if not all of them, are being run by the military or surviving gangs. [_Smirks rather acridly,_] I would not be surprised if Chicago's back in Mob hands...shit, can't go back home again then. Fun fact: Vegas never died; fucking called it.

Soooo...that got me thinking where did the two Ice Queens find so many test subjects if none of Cole's squads have in their priorities to "find and secure" survivors. Right after having sex with Overalls for the night, I took one of his dog tags to run it against the Army database of colony registers. Also took Coach's and Rochelle's but I didn't have to use such "methods". Turns out, [_There's an uncharacteristically soft smile on the conman's lips,_] there's a Florence Coach and a Mrs. Cordelia "Cordy" [BEEP], confirmed alive over at City 17, formerly Austin, Texas, one of the military colonies. Jacob Davis, Ro's fiancée, was confirmed Infected and died during the Cleveland bombings. And yes, I had to…persuade a tech to give me clearance.

[_Nick takes out the read-out_] Mrs. [BEEP], Ellis' mother, was accompanied with one Keith Lincoln…[_then shows the picture of a auburn-haired scarred young man, if slightly older than Ellis, with a full beard and matching red truck hat/Bullshifters shirt_.] This is the man who not only survived 5 3rd degree burns all over his body AND the fucking zombie apocalypse. Glad to know these suckers get a happy ending. Me? The moment I get out of here, I'm hitting the Strip and hope to God not to see another zombie that isn't in a Romero film.

[_The conman now lies back on his chair, shrugging,_] I never thought I'd be so happy to hear about the world. All airports have been closed down, and even Canada closed its borders during the first couple of waves back in Philly. Any airplane leaving the US and doesn't have military clearance gets shot down on sight. It's like the fucking world decided to leave us here to fend for ourselves! The only help we get is when they bomb the shit out of the Infected cities!

[_Nick's green eyes then fall on his left arm, where his newest tattoo is inscribed and he went quiet for a moment._] McKinley was lying…this, whatever she did; it's irreversible. We're freaks for life; weapons until we croak. The others can hope all they want, we're barely human anymore. There's also mentions of a private company trying to, and I quote, "mass produce" the strain. Motherfuckers can't have us…we're only here out of a thinning sense of duty. But after yesterday, the chances of us staying here and take CEDA and Army bullshit? [_Nick makes a zero with his index and thumb_] Nil. And after I tell the others where their loved ones are? We're heading into damn near the number I like to call, _"Fuck you all, we're gone, thanks for the wine-coolers and super powers."_

Oh and, Ellis, you wanted to know who I was? [_There's no discernable sound out of Nick's lips but he says a couple of words_] That's my real name, it's only fair. [_He rolls his eyes…_] Why the fuck do I care so much about some dumb hick like you, is beyond me…I mean, Jesus Christ! Rochelle's a nice-looking woman with more than ONE brain cell! I should be fucking her instead of you! [He stops to think about that last statement,] Maybe that's it…she's _nice_ and yes, I'd like to screw her when she's in heat…[grabs the camera rather irked] yeah, that's what I said, in _heat_…I wasn't kidding when I said 'barely human'. But she doesn't have that risk factor that El has. El's fucking insane, plus there's no risk of a baby between Death and War, which I'm sure was foretold in some nut job religious book.

[_Nick breathes and looks at the camera,_] But to be honest, I don't know what's going to happen once we leave this place…for real, none of that 'conditional freedom' bull. It stands to reason that if we're going anywhere, it's City 17, but odds are that it'll be a bitch to go from point A to point Texas. We can't leave breadcrumbs behind; we either go all in or we'll stay here until _they_ get tired of us and bring in the new models and promptly get a new hole in the head. Weapons get obsolete…but I won't. _We _won't break.

[_It's then that the conman shuts the device off, smirk on his face as the screen goes black._]


	14. Unconditional Altruism in the Apocalypse

A/N: Good news spread faster than bad and the Survivors dream a little scheme to escape their prison and venture on to this so-called City 17 to see their friends and family. As always, thank you for the reads and reviews!

DISCLAIMER: Recognize it? (c) VALVe

**

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Chapter 14: Unconditional Altruism in the Apocalypse**

"Y'mean t' tell me...oh thank God," Ellis could barely contain his excitement; Keith and his mother were safe. Red lines slipped out of Coach's eyes as his abstract hope became absolute truth. "Hate to rain on this happy parade but unless we can successfully bust out of Meridian and somehow make our way to Austin alive and get caught, this is all wishful thinking," Nick cut in, his mind measuring the odds. Rochelle sighed out when she got the news on Jacob's fate but she smiled when El wrapped her in a hug.

But the facts were these: they were Legion experiments that had to be supervised at all times and escape was pretty hard even during the solo jobs. In the conman's hands were printouts of the City 17 survivors and a rough sketch of the base. "And whatever we do, we only get one shot or I have a feeling CEDA will do much worse that making us sleep."

"Fuck it, Nicholas!" Coach chuckled, "Y'know how long I haven't seen my wife? Too damn long!" The gym teacher-turned-weapon then took the documents and read the addresses, committing them to memory. "All we need is a good plan an' we're set so let's hear 'em." The conman smirked as he leaned back to the bleachers. The little pow-wow was taking place in the one spot where there was no camera: the training gym area in the ungodly hours of the morning. "I'd try th' vents but Coach won't fit through th' narrower places," the mechanic reasoned, tugging at his hat. "Escaping from a job is just asking for it; we hafta do it while they're looking," the ex-reporter added, "And a full-blown break-out will get us shot in the head." Nick analyzed every flaw and suddenly remembered a fun fact.

"Overalls, how's that Jeep of yours coming along?" "It's almos' done but I need one last part t' make sure it don' crap out," Ellis responded, same thought in his head. "Still, that's a getaway car I ever thought of one," Coach assured the kid with a nod. "We'll need gas, a compass, and a lot of ammo but...it won't be long until we get to City 17," Rochelle concluded, her brown eyes resolute, "we'll be free again." The Survivors all had the same look on their faces as they all split ways into their chambers: one of cautious hope. Last time they thought they were free of the Infection; CEDA made them McKinley's pets.

Ro's words hung in Nick's mind as he returned to his room and took off his military shirt for the night. Freedom for him implied a whole different meaning since this started. The old him would've said he was free: fucking without commitments, drinking until comatose and indulging his favorite vice of gambling. But now...God, he just didn't want to feel like he was killing for another, used like a wave of destruction onto Infected and possibly civilians.

The escape was also their way of denying the Army access to their potential. They didn't need to be Cole or the Ice Queens to see it: release them in hostile territory and watch as they reap the land. Fuck a nuke, just send in a severely pissed off Horseman (particularly Ellis) undercover for a few days and you'll get a totaled enemy force. "Fuck, I just depressed myself," Nick shook his head and decided to go next door to 'relieve his tensions'. To none of his surprise, the card shark found his lov-er-fuck buddy chattering away at his camera journal.

"You better take that thing with you; _wouln' want yer ma t' worry where'd yew be, Ayluss_." Ellis grinned and set the device along his desk. "Tha' whatchu think, _ma petite idiot._" The phrase and Creole pronunciation made one of Nick's eyebrows shoot up, "Did you just-" "Cousin in th' Quarter taught me a coupla phrases befo' his daddy kicked 'im outta his house fer bein' a queer. I know how t' ask where th' bathroom is an' if I wan' fries with mah meals among other things," the mechanic explained, surprising Nick further. "Color me stunned; you're not as dumb as you make yourself appear." Ellis gave the older man a knowing smile and pulled him into the room then closed the door. "Nah, I'll color ya _hot 'n heavy_ better..."

After that quickie, the younger man said, "Thank yew, Nick" while the conman took a breather. "For what? This?" "Naw, I can do better with jus' my hand if ya know what I'm saying..." El shot back, earning a sarcastic laugh, "I mean, fer findin' Keith an' my mama." Nick kept silent: it was his one act of unconditional altruism that made them hope for escape from the walls of NAS Meridian. "No problem, sport," he replied, keeping mostly to himself...this could actually work.

The plan started out very simple: they began stealing some caches of various ammunition from missions and training exercises and stowing them away in the Jeep. Rochelle managed to sneak around some fully equipped medical kits and a defibrillator from a med technician...she didn't enjoy employing seduction to get what she wanted but it would do. "Guys, when we do bust outta here; can we keep the casualties to a minimum?" She requested her boys with a torn expression, "Not everyone here deserves to get killed." Before anyone could say, it was Coach who replied with conflict, "No promises, Baby Girl." The next part was trickier and had to be done in one attempt: stealing the car parts.

That day, Ellis breathed in and, with a rare scheming grin on his lips, punched one of Cole's second in command during mess hall. The instance instigated a fight where the mechanic had to be stopped with stun guns... "Have you finally cracked, you freak?" The sergeant sneered when El spit in his face and smirked like a true proud Southern man. "Maybe." The distraction was enough for Nick to swipe a card key off Cole. Because it was his first misdemeanor and at the insistence of Dr. McKinley, the kid got a slap on the wrist and got clean-up duty, just as planned. While Ellis mopped the halls, Nick swindled a couple of CEDA lab passes for Coach and Rochelle to doctor up to look like the eldest's security pass. "We'll probably need those at the checkpoints," Famine argued as War got to working.

Once the kid was done, he dropped his tool and took advantage of a camera blind spot and hopped up into an air vent to one of the maintenance halls to meet with the conman. They then held onto pipes and walls close to the ceiling as the last guard made the rounds around the target. "Fucking Italian prick," the soldier growled, obviously one of Nick's victims to which both Horsemen smirked. He was only half-right anyways. As soon as he exited the area, the Survivors dropped quietly and sprinted to locate the compatible Jeep.

"Hurry up, Overalls; there's only a twenty minute window until the 3 am shift takes over," the conman cautioned as Ellis popped the hood and searched the motor block. "I'm tryin' but th' starter an' carburetor-" the mechanic's complains were suddenly shut down as Nick rolled his eyes and lifted the car up to a considerable angle with minimal difficulty. "Righ'; don' be so impatient, Mr. Gambler!" the hick laughed and was able to cut out the last parts to their vehicle. As a precaution and act of good faith, El left an "OUT OF SERVICE" tag on the window before they both disappeared back into the vents.

The last piece to the plan was bittersweet: stowing away their civilian clothes in the truck. These were what they looked like before this mess: Rochelle's Depeche Mode shirt, Coach's gym teacher uniform, Ellis's Bullshifters shirt, and Nick's white suit. "God, this is weird; it's like we're tossin' away ourselves or som' deep thought," the mechanic mused as he tossed the video camera in with his stuff. "You've been drinking too much, sport."


	15. As Walls Fall

A/N: The escape and its consequences are a domino effect that result in the fall of NAS Meridian. Yes, the Survivors are back in the road and they have a goal in mind: Austin. Enjoy and thank you for all the reads!

A/N 2: Chapter has been revised due to lack of content; hope this makes the chapter a little coherent and enjoyable!

DISCLAIMER: Recognize it? (c) VALVe

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**Chapter 15: As Walls Fall**

The Survivors all agreed on a date; January 28, a full four months after they first met in Savannah. That day, it was a matter of triggering the fire alarm and hope to God, there weren't that many Infected running around outside the walls. Rochelle was due at the labs for a routine check up and along the way, pull the red lever and take the service hall down to the vehicle station. Her boys would take out any soldiers from their respective areas and have only five minutes to make it before Cole and McKinley figured the plan and shut it down. There was just one hitch as the reporter found out while she ran through the ensuing alarm and chaos...

"Yes! I'm almost there!" Ro couldn't help exclaim while she threaded through the supplies shelves. She was almost home-free when she slipped and fell on a puddle of blood. "What the fuck? Ow," she hissed and flinched at the sights and smell of misplaced gore. Rochelle then followed the sight and gasped horrified: an Infected soldier had killed and started to devour one of his fellow men. The creature roared and immediately lounged at her, crimson teeth aimed at her throat. Instantly, two shots pieced the Infected's face, putting out of its misery. "Shit, there are zombies in here!" _So much for minimum casualties_, she thought while pocketing the handgun back to its holster and resuming her sprint.

Along the way to the safe haven that was the garage, Ro saw glimpses of more soldiers attacking each other and tearing each other apart. One of the women even began showcasing the signs of becoming a Spitter, hocking gastric juices over her comrades and blinding them. The ex-reported instantly fired back and put the mutating soldier out of its inevitable misery, trying to do her little bit in preserving as many lives as she could. "Come on! Get up and get out of here!" Rochelle commanded at the still-reeling combatants, just as a superior officer would. "Take the service halls and don't look back!"

~0~

"Sergeant! We have a situation!" Lt. Bill Ripley shouted as he breached Sgt. Cole's inner office. The all-American soldier was already tending to some matters on a base recapture operation when he was interrupted. "What kind of situation? And make it quick," Nathan growled while grabbing his gun holster. "There are bogeys in the base! The C-block's gone to the shitter and there's no word on A and D!" Cole's breath hitched, eyes widened in both horror and shock…_How the fuck did an Infected slip through? Meridian's impenetrable! _"You sure?" "Yessir; Tanks haven't been seen but the lesser Infected are taking over the base! We have to evacuate!" Ripley concluded, body trembling from the bite on his leg. He just had to make the delivery and-

Cole saw that and, without a second thought, shot the lieutenant in the face, preserving his humanity in death. "Thank you, Lt….at ease," he whispered, almost numb to the world before he radioed in to the CEDA labs. "All personnel must head out to the evac stations, drop everything and get out. We have a breach."

Two floors below the surface, McKinley was shocked but mostly disappointed; that idiot promised her and her team that there would be no interruptions in their research. "Come along, Jessica," the geneticist remarked with a sigh, as she took out her data stick, "I'd hate to lose my one trusted aide to the Infected." The second Ice Queen simply nodded and cold-heartedly snuffed the light out of the subject she was experimenting on. "Right away, Erin."These two women didn't survive three other horde incidents just to be held down by petty sentimentality.

~0~

"What took you so long, cupcake?" Nick snarled in the garage as Ellis and Coach filled the last two gallons of gasoline. "We have one serious problem," Rochelle spat back before she too spotted the roaring masses. "Them!" "Goddamn, how'd they get past th' walls?" The mechanic yelled as he hotwired the Jeep back to life. "Someone came in sick!" Coach quickly surmised as he pulled War inside. "Musta spread like wildfire then!" The reinforced car tore through the unlocked doors and sped through the massive grounds as the Infected came out of their hiding places and began overwhelming the soldiers at the base.

"Fucking hell...keep drivin' north while Nick an' I clear a path!" Famine commanded, passing the submachine guns to Death and opened fire. Video cameras recorded every moment as Meridian fell while black helicopters took to the skies. Every bullet that left the Survivors' gun barrels became lethal points, lading on heads, hearts, throats, and so on, effectively opening a way for their getaway vehicle to escape the inferno.

Hundreds of feet above the mass murder, Sgt. Cole watched helpless while his men, those he so proudly trained, succumbed to the disease and kill their own compatriots in their psychotic rage. Worse still was the fact that the escaping weapons were doing a terrifyingly efficient job at decimating the Infected and anyone who stood in their path to freedom. "Sir, should we follow them?" The pilot inquired but Nathan remained quiet...the illusion of control disappearing in one hour or less. "No; head to the Phoenix bunker in Arizona," he ordered quietly as he retook his seat.

On the other chopper, Erin McKinley and Jessica Holden saw their work either destroyed or drive away. Their genetic wonders, their breakthroughs…all gone in the chaos. Sure, Dr. McKinley had a copy on her USB disguised as a necklace but it was a devastating blow to her creatures drive away into the wilderness. As heartless as she portrayed herself to be, she let silent tears slip out of her eyes and along her fair face. "The military has secured 75 percent of Camp Shelby and the data was successfully transferred to the Phoenix station. We'll continue our work there," Holden spoke in her usual mechanical tone if only slightly broken. "There better be."

None of the Survivors cared where they were going, just as long as they were going far away from Meridian. The Jeep itself was built all-terrain, able to withstand the assault tree roots and debris dished out. Even from their distant location, all four could still hear the screams, the shots fired, and the invasion taking over. "Even the proudest wall fell to the wrath of God," Coach murmured under his breath as Ellis drove through the terrain and entered a long abandoned highway. "Amen," Rochelle added still looking back at the carnage. "Besides, God's on His coffee break," Nick stated morosely. "Well, we'll jus' keep on livin' until He comes back, a'righ'?" Ellis concluded, surprising everyone with his still-present optimism in the haunting event.

Their first stop was in an abandoned cabin about 40 miles due north of the base, close to a corollary stream to the Mississippi River. Life after the Green Flu was evident as animal wildlife left trails and made noises in the otherwise empty forest. "Y'all, this feels like the Blair Witch Proyect," Rochelle smirked at the dilapidated building, bringing back fond memories of Jacob and her watching bad horror movies. "I'll take that kind of Witch these days, Baby Girl," Coach commented before tossed away his military uniform and grabbed his yellow and violet shirt.

Ellis had already switched his clothes but in his hand were his Conquest dog tags. He observed them and twirled in the fading light. "Penny for your one thought," Nick's voice broke the daydream. "Jus' thinkin' if I shoul' toss these things som'where," El responded pensively... "I wouldn't." "Why not?" The conman shrugged and took a look at his own. "Well, for starters, women love military men and their dog tags. Secondly, it'll give CEDA a point to start tracking us," Nick argued while stretching his back. "Besides, this isn't my real name anyways so it really doesn't matter." "Yer jus' one big ol' mystery, ain'tcha?" "Said the Catholic Georgia hillbilly who can speak French and bend like a slut. Now, let's find some firewood and water; apparently we're having dehydrated hot dog for dinner."

The bonfire that night was a bittersweet moment as all four held a moment of silence for those soldiers that died or became Infected while defending the base. But the joy of freedom didn't take long and, surely enough, the Survivors were celebrating. They even burned their military uniforms as an act of defiance of those who created them. "Dear Lord, I never thought I'd be in a Zombie Apocalypse, let alone walk away from it!" Rochelle exclaimed through a fit of thankful laughter.

Even Nick joined in with an actual sincere smile on his stubble-laden face. Coach found some box wine and they went ahead and started drinking the warm alcohol to swallow their food. "If anyone finds a Pinot Noir, don't you DARE turn it into a Molotov!" He warned rather jokingly, "That shit's going to be expensive these days." All of them knew for a fact that because of the turmoil, CEDA wouldn't start looking for them for at least a day and a half; giving the group ample time to find a way to Texas.

"Y'know what we shoul' do? We shoul' find Virgil!" Ellis suggested, remembering the only person in the South who was almost as selfless as he was. The others immediately pictured the _Lagniappe_ streaming along the river, granting a safe ride to New Orleans. "El, if that man's still alive, he's gettin' the Peace prize fo' sure," Coach added while he cradled a refill of the wine, "God, I can't wait to see Flo again." "Wonder what life's going to be like to live in Austin..." Ro wondered aloud. "My prediction? It'll be like the base only bigger and dirtier and less people trying to shoot us," Ever the realist, Nick answered her question and yet there was still hope in his voice. "If Virgil's still aroun', maybe we could ask 'im t' drop us off in Galveston..."

That night, the Survivors slept on cots throughout the cabin, Ro getting the priviledged Master bedroom. The mechanic managed to sneak past the oldest of the bunch to make his way to his partner. "Sport, we're free now; you can get someone else to fuck you," Nick growled as he played card basketball. "Yeah, I coul' but I ain' here fer tha'; I'mma teach ya some manners t' talkin' to my mama an' not make an ass of yerself," El commented while he made himself comfortable on the nearest wall but his smirk read, _But no one fucks me as good as you._

"Firs' off, she hates tha' formal crap so y'all gonna call her by wha' she tells yew to…and so help me God if yew call her one of yer hillbilly insults." "Deal. Now go to sleep, we have an assload of miles to run if we're going to Texas on foot." Driven by an unconscious tug, Ellis never left the room and slept alongside the person that had been his constant companion ever since the first needle pricks.


	16. Brave New World

A/N: The Survivors' last stretch to freedom runs into a few bumps but they are reunited with a certain boat captain. There's only 3 chapters left in this part of the trilogy and, as always, I thank you guys, the readers, for all the reads and reviews! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: recognize it? (C) VALVe

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Chapter 16: Brave New World**

Morning came too fast and the hung-over human weapons stirred awake with the Sun's rays. Ellis was the first one up and he took a deep breath into the dawn's early lights…the forest air was so much different from the sterile air in their former prison. The world truly felt alive again and he loved it almost much as the man sleeping in his white suit. El enjoyed watching Nick rest, every harsh line softened to the point that they disappeared; it made the conman look younger. "Wakey wakey eggs 'n bakey..." "Not cool, Ellis," the card shark rumbled. "Git yer lazy ass up, Nick; Coach-man's cookin' an' food goes fast," the mechanic laughed it off and ran downstairs.

"Well, we got an 8-day walk from Meridian to Austin if we take the Jeep down Highway 49, cross Louisiana, and walk the rest of the way," Rochelle announced, tourist map on hand and a pen to mark the route to run. "We have to be careful not to overdo it or we run the risk of collapsing. And I honestly don't feel like being zombie chow." To an outsider, the concepts she talked about seemed right out of a sci-fi movie but what was the difference when you're stuck in a never-ending horror flick where the Director didn't even have the decency to leave resolution?

"Who's to say CEDA doesn't control us like a goddamn Hot Wheels car?" Nick argued as he swallowed the water bottle Coach had stowed away as supplies. "We got three days' worth o' gas; food fer two an' adrenaline shots fer a full day," Ellis said aloud, checking on the vehicle. "We coul' go ahead an' drive durin' th' day, 11 hours tops an' stop t' rest wherev'r we can."

"Plus we gotta conserve our ammo until we can scavenge som' in Alexandria...there's gonna be a shitload of bogeys there. Anyone remembers Virgil's station?" the oldest Survivor added. "We're seriously going to contact him?" War raised her eyesight at the sole paternal figure in her life at the moment. "It's our best chance at gettin' there without bein' caught by the Army or by the Infected." Memory crisp as the day they escaped the Sugar Mill, Rochelle recited almost robotically, "425 AM" then flinched; she didn't even have to think the answer and it just slipped out of her mouth.

Ellis saw that and shrugged slightly before returning to his task at hand; he too was remembering a lot of events and people he forgot during the Apocalypse, like the fact that he didn't remember seeing the boat driver. "Y'all even think Virgil's a person at all?" "No, conversation over; I'm taking a smoke break before you start this stupid argument," Nick interrupted before stepping out of the cabin. If the steamboat actually replied to their pleas, it could make their trip so much shorter and less time for CEDA to catch on. He took out one cigarrette and lit up to get that nicotine fix.

Either way, by foot or by boat, Austin was a long trip; longer than their previous trek to New Orleans in the beginning. But this one had promise, particularly with the forged passes Coach made. _Wonder how many kids he caught faking their report cards until he learned their tricks?_ Nick asked in his mind and chuckled a puff of smoke. Then the question arose; would he stick around after everyone got their happy ending? By logic, he could make a new life with Rochelle but, genetic modifications aside, she saw them as "her boys", no connotations of 'tap that ass.' She'd find someone new and bring that person over for dinner. "God, that sounds so mundane," slipped out of those lips and yet he smiled.

"Y'all done, Li'l Miss Diva?" Ellis remarked from behind, "Cuz Coach's placin' a call." "If that crazy bastard picks up, I'll give you the mother of all blow jobs." "Tha' makes two yew owe me," the mechanic shot back while letting his arms slip around Nick's waist. The conman did nothing to condone or condemn the action so El went one step further and placed a quick kiss on one of shoulder blades before removing himself altogether. The lack of contact made Nick turn around to see his partner hold a high caliber sniper rifle with a scope that could see for miles. "What are you going to with that, kill Bambi's mother?"

"Nah; heard som' russ'lin' las' night so I'mma snipe some scout Hunters befo' we leave," the hick grinned at his answer then leaped to his vantage point. The older man watched as the kid took aim and fired twice. The dying throes of the hooded Infected echoed but no Horde was seen to respond. "Nice shots, Overalls," Nick remarked as he hopped up to stand besides him. They remained there, shooting down and chatting about their past achievements (Ellis would've never guessed Nick managed to win $1 million in one table only to spend $400,000 on various assorted and possibly illegal activities), even more Infected, until Coach ordered them back inside.

"Good news...Virgil's alive," he announced. "And the bad news is that he's too far away," the gambler argued. "Nope, he's not budging from his route unless we can convince him otherwise," Coach said while rubbing his eyes; he had spent the last hour trying to convince the man to do them this favor. "Didya offer 'im gas?" Ellis suggested, "Jeep's got plenty an' th' Mississippi ain' too far!" "Tried that, youn'un' but he ain't budgin'." "We can get diesel and more supplies," Rochelle amended, knowing how desperate people could become when they needed food. "We have a car and this could help him help _us_." "I'll try again but no promises," Famine replied then went back to the radio. Death and Conquest looked at each of with uncertainty; the boat could make or break their escape.

After ten nerve-cracking minutes, the Survivors got their answer..."Pack only the essentials, ladies an' gents: we're goin' to Galveston!" Ellis couldn't help the holler that roared from his mouth. "Fuck yeah! Thank yew Virgil!" Rochelle managed to smile wholeheartedly and asked, "Where do we meet him?" "Twenty miles from here, at the river bank but we hafta leave now befo' CEDA catches the transmission," Coach cautioned before seizing his bag and heading out. For Ellis and Nick, the only extraneous essential was the hick's camera and that could be carried in a simple backpack with a medkit and some shots; handguns and katanas were at hand. "Time t' head out!"

Cole's first lieutenant Visser August inspected the deserted cabin once over. The precision of the bullet wounds on the Hunters was the telltale sign that the escaped experiments had been here. "Sir, there are no signs of the Legion subjects here," one of the foot soldiers reported back. "Keep searching, Sgt. Cole wants these things under custody as soon as possible!" August barked at his severely reduced troops. Twenty-fours ago, the US Army's strongest bastion fell and heads were already rolling because of it. The lieutenant looked down to look for his lighter when he spotted tread marks of an Army Jeep in a southeastern direction..."No shit, they're headed for the Mississippi! Tell all pick-up personnel to head to the river!"

The ride down to the river seemed peaceful until a bullet whistled between El and Rochelle, hitting the rear-view mirror. "What the he-oh shit!" The Survivors turned around and, once their eyes focused, spotted the caravan of fatigues on 4-track vehicles speeding through the forest. "Don't these guys ever give up?" Nick exclaimed as he grabbed the one machine gun in their stock and pulled the trigger. "Not particularly! Keep driving!" Ro shot back while firing some sniper rounds at the soldiers.

The tumbling shoot-out carried on until the oldest member of the Horsemen spotted the river boat cruising by. "Tha's Virgil's boat, Ellis; lose these guys!" "Then git down, pipe bomb's hot!" El warned then threw the device into the clearing. The pipe bomb beeped for a second then blasted shrapnel and a cloud of debris into the platoon, giving the Survivors the chance to escape.

"C'mon get 'em gas cans befo' they put their faces t'gether!" The hick hurried as he made a screeching halt and his teammates hopped off. Grabbing each can on each hand and a pack on their shoulders, the Survivors waited until the boat lined alongside the banks. Hearing the soldiers in the distance and the snarls of Infected from the opposite sides, they all decided not to wait for the docking..."Leap o' faith," Ellis whispered before jumping the 10 feet from land and water and landing with a roll on the flat vessel's surface.

"Boy sure don't think things through," Coach let out from the surprise of the brash decision. "That's El for you," Nick praised with a smirk and imitated his lover in hopping over. As soon as the last Horseman was on the _Lagniappe_, Rochelle instantly shouted, "Step on it, Virgil!" "Will do, ma'am!"

By the time August's forces arrived at the abandoned Jeep, the boat had disappeared into the river's horizon..."Status report on the renegade lab rats," Cole's voice cracked in the radio walkie-talkie, sounding defeated and exasperated. "The renegades have disappeared again, sir. They were headed downstream; should I continue the search?" The lieutenant alerted. "Negative; fall back to the pick-up position. We need all the men available for Camp Shelby. We'll renew the search once we recapture a stable base."


	17. Where does this ocean go?

A/N: The brief rest between Mississippi and Texas finally allows the Survivors to rest and yet raises doubts on their captain. Yes, it's short but still enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: recognize it? (C) VALVe

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Chapter 17: Where does this ocean go?**

Being back on Virgil's ship brought back memories for all four survivors as the general sense of immunity from the world that spat them out returned with a gust of wind. "Y'all git comfy while Virgil getscha som'thin' t' eat," the mysterious boat captain assured his passengers as soon as the _Lagniappe_ drifted far enough from the river coasts. "Virgil, I don't care what's on the menu, just don't tell us what's in it!" Coach exclaimed with true happiness in his voice. The oldest man turned his head for a moment and decided to join Virgil in the kitchen; his wards would be fine without him for the time being.

Yes, it took a bit of bribery in the form of gas cans to convince the captain to change his usual route but the ship would venture out into the Gulf of Mexico and make port in Galveston. "_Aide ces pauvres âmes qui en ont besoin, non_?" Ellis argued with a kind smile. "_Oui,_ plus I haven' foun' any mo' survivors after y'all!"

Rochelle simply lied on her chest and let an arm overboard, her fingertips grazing the water's surface. "We're almost home-free, you guys," she whispered as small fish nibbled on her ridges. Nick was only too happy to rest against the boat's edge. "No more CEDA, no more military, no more experiments…God, that sounds so good it hurts," he allowed to slip out of his lips and Ellis sighed out. "We'd make a new home in Austin…wonder if Ma's cookin' righ' now," the mechanic mused, sliding alongside Nick, as a younger brother would to his favorite sibling after a horrible day at school. "I coul' start a shop with Keith, provided Nikita here graciously donates th' cash." "Fuck off Ellis; my money's worthless now, earn your keep like a good little whore."

"Cute but think 'bout it; a new life where we ain' chased anymo'." That one stuck and it gave new meaning to the ride…this was their ferry out of Hell and into a new world. Sure, it was mangled and still had too many Infected but they could start rebuilding their lives or, Nick's case, start anew. The only person who knew his real name was currently beside him, ranting on about the cars that would've survived the Infection. The conman closed his green eyes and looked up at the sky, smirking at the thought of driving a Jaguar or a Maseratti without getting gore on it. Life was finally becoming stable enough to live in it. "Nice to keep the hope alive."

But they didn't feel safe until two days later, when they could see the coastlines and the open waters of the Gulf. It was late in the afternoon when the mechanic and the conman were enjoying their food outside. "Oh, tha' just beautiful, Nick," Ellis remarked with a smile as the sun set with red and orange hues in front of them. "Don't turn into a chick, Ayluss; I enjoy riding your-" "Shut yer trap!" The hick growled then yawned profoundly. His blue eyes then met with green full of worry and reluctant acceptance; it was time to sleep.

"Come on, sport," the gambler aided his partner and managed to peck his forehead, "Virgil has a back cabin where we can rest." "Thank ya, Nick...I'm really tired," Ellis whispered, movements languid and breath slowing down while he was led down to the cot. They all had stayed awake, scavenging supplies for the captain in exchange for the passage; maximizing their waking periods as much as possible. First one to fall asleep was Rochelle, then Coach in the rooms before theirs. Austin just seemed so close, images of the Survivors' former lives flashing through their eyes as the last two collapsed in a state that mirrored death.

By the time they opened their eyes again, the Galveston shoreline was becoming clear with the hints of the desolate highway bridges connecting to the mainland. Virgil, as it turned out, was an imp of a man, an old vet's cap covering obvious balding and overalls covered in grease and fish guts. He, along with Coach, were cleaning the bow of the ship while Rochelle helped with the cooking. "We're almos' there an' y'all can go on yer merry way while Virgil goes back home," the captain announced, a slight limp to his step thanks to an old wound as the five sat to eat dinner. "Y'all sleep like bears ev'n in the rough seas!" "So that's why I puked all over El here," Nick quipped, causing the mechanic to sneer and raise his hand to slap him.

"You sure you don't want to come with us to Austin?" Ro inquired while serving up the thick fish chowder. "Naw, Virgil foun' ya guys an' the _Lagniappe's_ still able; Virgil'll keep findin' until he croaks," the captain reasoned, as if insuring safe passage for the Survivors, no questions asked. "Yer a Godsend," Ellis thanked with a humble tip of his hat and nod of the head. "Iss jus' mah duty t' mah fellow man, _monsieur_!"

As soon as the boat docked in the Galveston port a few hours later, Virgil took off his hat while the Survivors hopped onto the boardwalk. "Don' be a stranger!" Coach bid the captain farewell. "An' y'all use yer new gifts fer good y'hear!" Virgil shouted back, shocking the Horsemen before disengaging the _Lagniappe_ and heading back to sea, disappearing in the early morning fog.

"Did he…just…How did he even know?" Rochelle tried to construct the question; she took great care hiding her dog tags as her friends did. "You know what? By this point, I don't care," Nick retorted while rubbing his eyes and face; salvation was almost 300 miles and he wasn't up for a philosophical discussion. "You're right, Nicholas; now let's get goin'," Famine announced with a smirk as the Common Infected caught their still-living scent.

The conman and the mechanic instantly drew their sibling swords and charged head-on while the reporter took out the last Uzi in their stock to make it rain lead. If the Survivors were walking to Austin, there was going to be a trail of heavy bloodshed behind them…just as McKinley designed her subjects to do.


	18. Un Mondo Senza Fine

A/N: The last chapter of this part of the _Four Horsemen_ trilogy ends on a hopeful note as the Survivors finally arrive in Austin and meet their loved ones. Yes, it's a trilogy that the second part's already being written at this moment, hinted in the Easter egg here. Thank you all for the reads and reviews, my twin bunny queen for letting me play Left 4 Dead 2 and giving me all that support and docmilbury (Vin) for being my beta and co-conspirator in this verse!

DISCLAIMER: Recognize it? (c) VALVe

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Chapter 18: Un Mondo Senza Fine**

"Coach, two Jockeys on yer left!" Ellis called out as he retrieved his combat knife from a Common Infected's had. The ex-football star heeded the warning and, taking advantage of his own reflexes, seized the manic zombie and crushed his head under the floor, splattering brain matter everywhere. Unfortunately, the other Jockey grabbed Coach's face and neck, cackling as he drove the man closer to the port's edge. "Oh no you don't!" Rochelle yelled out and fired three buck-shots into the exposed back, spraying spinal fluid over to the right wall.

"Thanks Baby Girl! Nick, how are ya?" the leader called out as soon as he recovered. "Having a great time with this CHARGER!" Nick choked under the mutated arm just as he tried to wriggle out of the grip. The broken bones where already healing but they didn't help much with the goddamn pain. Why they ever thought the port town would be devoid of Infected just because it was an island was beyond him. Thanks to the connecting bridges, the Green Flu would've spread like wildfire . The workers seemed stuck in time, the protective gear practically sliding off them due to starvation onset.

Just as the behemoth was about to slam the gambler into paste, his eyes caught the hick speeding up the Charger's back and burying the comparably small blade into the thick skull, killing it instantly. "Y'all okay?" he smiled as he pulled Nick back up onto his feet. "I'll be fine once we're done with this little detour." It's amazing what a misplaced alarm can do in cargo stations to call the Hordes. "Goddamn, they just keeping for more an' I just tossed our last pipe bomb," Coach spat out while the mentioned explosive herded a substantial amount of zombies only to blow them into human confetti.

"Then we just have to outrun them," War concluded, taking note of the large shipping containers and hopping onto the top of one. The other three nodded and followed her example, running above the maze-like structures left behind by commercial and passenger shipping operations. There was no doubt in the Survivors' minds they could survive this...they had to. This was the last stretch and God forbid, they should die before they arrived at City 17.

Two Tanks thundered down from the northernmost ramps, overturning containers left and right. "Jesus CHRIST, this shit just got nasty!" Nick shouted exasperated while he dodged one of the flying structures. The group's ammunition had just run out and melee weapons were never a good idea against two of those bastards. "Maybe not!" Ellis yelled after he noticed one of the cranes was still holding a container. He smiled and broke off from the team, hacking through any Common or Hunter along the way. Of course there wasn't any electricity but the emergency brake was analog anyways, so the mechanic punched it at just the right time to let Gravity do the rest. Not even Tanks could survive a ton and a half of weight falling at 9.8 meters per second and the SPLAT was evidence of this fact.

When they all managed to find a safehouse in the business district, Coach took out the already worn-out map he'd stolen from Meridian and crossed out Galveston. "One down, an assload to go," he said as his team mates patched themselves up. There was still the bridge connecting the island to the mainland then the rest of the 260 odd lines left. "Maybe not so much," Ro quickly observed, looking at some of the documents and graffiti left behind in the safe room. Most of them were quite old, dating to a beginning infection but a couple of recent tags read about a train being run by the army state branch.

"According to this, we can catch a train in Houston and ride our way to Austin. I remember back in October, the government started reviving old railroads to ease land evacuations." "Convenient but let's remember that, unless Coach's passes get us through, we might as well gift-wrap ourselves back to CEDA," Nick argued as the last of the fractured ribs reassembled. "Worth a shot," El countered while reloading everyone's guns. Setting goals helped the Horsemen stay focused and starve off the sleep.

The Survivors managed to cover more ground, at least 38 more miles after they crossed the bridge from Galveston to the mainland. Interstate 45 was a straight line from the next safe house but they couldn't stop. Not when the Promised Land was so close they could touch it. A Spitter and Smoker nest? Gone. A shopping district full of Common Infected? Up in flames that could be seen for miles around. Every safe room along the way gave them more information about the train and its former days as an Amtrak that had plenty of traffic but had to be shut down to contain the Infection. After a month of extermination, the US government decided to open the tracks once more to transport survivors into the rebuilding cities much faster than helicopters.

After a day and a half of killing, surviving, and postponing sleep in League City and later Friendswood, the Survivors managed to catch a glimpse of the makeshift station, blocked by wrecked cars and long decomposing bodies. It was practically empty, meaning the train had boarded and the sounds they heard were those of final call. Soldiers with their masks and semi-automatic assault firearms, were the last to board until...

"Wait!" Rochelle screamed as the fortified train started up, "we have four more survivors!" The conductor heard her cries and stalled the train, allowing the group to slip in the back cabins. "IDs please," one of the guards, pointing the barrel of his AK, requested. Coach quickly handed the fakes and held his breath. It took two seconds for the army man to answer: "Roxanne Davis, Eli Mallon, Terrence Charles, and Nathan Liberatore?" "Present." "Then welcome aboard; passenger cabins are two doors down."

Without any further questions, possibly because they seemed well, the soldiers walked away to resume the train. "It...it's over..." Nick couldn't hide his disbelief; they were going somewhere to call home. "FUCK YEAH, WE'RE FREE AT LAST!" Ellis hollered with true freaking joy; it was finally, gloriously over.

~0~

Even at 67 years of age, one Cordelia [BEEP] still woke up every day at 8 am to sit at the Amtrak station and wait. She'd carry a little money and a hearty lunch but she stayed put. Ever since she was relocated in Austin with Keith, the aging woman found a home close to the train station to wait for her son, Ellis. "Miss Cordy, yer bein' too hard on yerself," said young man commented while he got her the newspaper and some coffee. "Oh, I ain' Keith; I jus' know I'll see my baby boy ag'in," she answered with a sad smile; it had been partially her fault Ellis stayed behind at the Vannah and she never stopped blaming herself. Before the fellow Georgian could counter, the shrill bell announced arrivals from other stations. "I have a good feelin' 'bout t'day."

As soon as they were cleared, El and Nick sped off the cabins while Coach and Ro took their time. On their left and rights was the wall of posters of people who'd become residents to tell their loved ones where to find them. "Kinda like helpin' 'em find their way back home," the mechanic murmured as he searched his mother's address to no avail. Nick just scanned to see if anyone he knew made it there, no one seemed familiar. Coach, on the other hand, found his wife's poster and smiled softly; she used a photo of their last vacation together to portray him. "Well boys an' girls, this is where I retire," e announced to the group he grew to care for while handing over his dog tags. "Whaddya mean?" Ellis quipped rather confused at the small plaques exchanged hands to Rochelle's.

"Youn'un', even with this freaky shit in my veins, I'm too old for this shit. I'm gonna go find my wife, give her a kiss an' get out while the going's good," the oldest member of these Survivors explained. "Nick, since you're a good liar-" It took less than 2 seconds for the conman to figure the rest of the request and replied sincerely, "I'll tell them you drowned." With that, Coach embraced all three of his wards, wishing them well and thanks. Ro could barely hold back the red tears welling up in her eyes as the man she grew to love as a father through hell and back disappear in a cab with some roses for his beloved wife.

"Hope you two can manage to not kill each other without him," the ex-reporter said with a sigh as she grabbed one of the posters referring to Amelia Perera, an anchor from a rival TV station she met before the first Infection. "You're leaving too? Who am I going to fuck?" Nick kid around. "I dunno, you and El here have quite the operation behind our backs." The mechanic's eyes widened and the red crept up his neck. That didn't stop Rochelle from kissing them both on the lips in gratitude. "Y'all don't be strangers, you hear?" she whispered in their ears before mingling into the crowds. It was almost scare how easy it was...and how normal it all seemed.

"Yew gonna leave me too?" the mechanic asked quietly, slightly anxious at the answer. "Nah, you're not getting rid of me that easily, sport," the card shark quipped with a tired grin and allowed his fingertips to graze Ellis' hand, a rare intimate gesture that everyone else missed. A split second later, the younger Horseman's smile grew to a grin from ear to ear; he knew that Sunday hat anywhere. "Momma?"

Miss Cordy spun in her comfy heels and, for a moment, couldn't believe her eyes... "Ellis! Oh my Lord, yer all right!" she squealed in her immediate embrace; her baby boy had made it out _alive_! Keith almost couldn't believe it himself as he managed to exclaim, "It's official, yer mo' bad ass than me!" "Yew have _no idea_," Ellis hinted with a lopsided grin while he greeted the legendary man from his stories. Nick knew he didn't belong in this moment and was just about to leave when someone grabbed his left sleeve. Doubtful green eyes met confident blues as El introduced him. "Ma, Keith; this is Nick...Nick, this is my momma an' Keith."

End.


	19. Epilogue: The Bunker

A/N: The Epilogue as the chess players of the World That Once Was make their presence known and the biblical Apocalypse becomes all the more real...This was written by docmilbury, Vin, who was a great beta and writing partner from the get-go. Thanks, dood!

DISCLAIMER: Recognize it? (c) VALVe

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Epilogue: The Bunker**

"This is ridiculous!"

The speaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and dark eyes, summed up the feelings of the group. They were nine in number, seated around a great oak table that evoked the sense of power and security they once wielded, in what was rapidly becoming known as the 'World Before.' They were once leaders, politicians, captains of industry. Now, they were just men and women, struggling desperately to maintain their thrones - and their lives - as their empires crumbled out from under them.

The mood in this dimly-lit luxury bunker was grim. A large screen, completely dominating one wall, told the story. Video feed from Naval Air Station Meridian, recorded just hours earlier, showed a scene of chaos. Infected had somehow breached the perimeter, and had begun to overrun the base. The most important residents of Meridian, too valuable to risk losing, had hastily boarded awaiting helicopters - two of them sat here among the nine right now. More ominously, the base's ostensible defenders - the four subjects of Projection Legion, colloquially known as 'the Four Horsemen' - were recorded fighting Infected and uninfected alike. The muted video offered grim testimony to the power the Horsemen wielded: they tore through groups of Infected with ease and disabled veteran soldiers in seconds. "Now that we've lost Meridian, all the successes of Project Legion are irrelevant!"

"And now our supply route has been broken!" The new speaker was younger, and sounded even more frantic. "Without Meridian we have no way of getting shipments from our west coast partners! How the hell are we supposed to hold this location now?"

"We're accelerating the operation to reclaim Camp Shelby," a tired-looking man in disheveled Army fatigues spoke up. "But without the Horsemen to take point, it's not going to be easy."

It was a bitter pill for Sergeant Nathan Cole to swallow, having to admit to such weakness in front of these people. Ordinarily, he would have scoffed at the idea that he or his regiment needed four unqualified, undeserving civilians for anything. But taking eighty percent casualties in the fall of Meridian had deflated Cole, at least for now. It didn't make the blow any lighter that a good chunk of those casualties had not been inflicted by the Infected, but by those undeserving civilians themselves.

"What about CEDA?" demanded a third man. "What is CEDA doing?" All eyes in the room turned to one of the two women among them, a fair Caucasian with blonde hair. She didn't look quite as haggard as the soldier did, but her white labcoat bore bloodstains and her lined face showed that she too had not had much sleep in the past twenty-four hours.

"There is not much that we **can** do." Doctor Erin McKinley spoke with remarkably little emotion, her voice cool and collected. "Research has proven conclusively that the subjects have incorporated the gB435 virus flawlessly into their biological structure. They don't need us to survive. And given the results of their psychological profiles, they are unlikely to return of their own free will."

"It was a mistake to rely on those _things_ from the start." Cole couldn't resist taking the shot.

"It was **your** strongarm tactics that drove them away." McKinley fired back.

Cole opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off by the sound of fingers drumming impatiently along the table. He turned to rebuke whoever was responsible, only to close his mouth in a hurry when he saw who those fingers belonged to. "Really? So they're going to try surviving on their own?"

Every head in the room, even Dr. McKinley, turned at the sound of this new speaker's voice. "That's not right... not while the rest of us are risking our lives to keep our nation together. At least until Judgment Day..." "I wish you wouldn't put it that way, Samael." Once again, it was the dark-haired man who spoke for the group. "We aren't the PNCA."

"My apologies, no offense intended." Samael answered smoothly, with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile dripping faux sincerity. "Nevertheless, I cannot understand why you people have tolerated these incidents of reckless insubordination for so long, insubordination from these creatures who should be thanking us on bended knee." No one spoke, but every ear in the room had Samael's attention. He made his point persuasively, with a sanguine smile.

"I think we've reached the point where tolerating this sort of behavior can no longer be an option."

"The subjects of Project Legion still have free will." An edge of cold irritation crept into Dr. McKinley's voice. "Science can't change that." "As property belonging to the United States government, the 'Horsemen' should be obligated to obey her representatives. Am I wrong?"

Dr. McKinley remained silent. She knew that arguing with a fanatic like Leon Samael was pointless. But her colleagues were not so skeptical. Many of them were in agreement with Samael, among them Sergeant Cole. "If the task is too difficult for CEDA, _I'll_ see to it that the Horsemen are retrieved." Samael stood, the better to address his peers.

"**You** will?" Cole was fairly incredulous. "Our top priority is the retrieval of our weapons, Sergeant." Samael said, gently admonishing Cole. "We can't afford the luxury of sparing your pride." Cole looked away, torn between feeling furious and embarrassed. He would have enjoyed nothing better at that moment than drop-kicking Samael's head up his ass.

"You have the Shelby operation to consider." Samael reminded him. He then turned to address the rest of his colleagues. "We'll increase efficiency if we divide these responsibilities." McKinley had been hoping that CEDA would be given free rein after seeing how badly the military had screwed things up, but she could see now that wasn't happening, at least not officially. The others were all nodding in agreement with Samael, and even the troglodyte Cole wasn't arguing.

"This may even be an opportunity for me to give 'the Beast' a field test."

Only three people at the table had any idea what Samael was talking about; the rest, including Cole, shared looks of confusion. McKinley, on the other hand, wore a look of utter disbelief. Even the man who had previously spoken for the group looked stunned. "You're planning on using _that_ against the Horsemen?" "That depends on how cooperative they are." responded Samael coolly. "If these Horsemen are even half as rebellious as I've heard... then I think we could find ourselves in for a little excitement."

By the time the meeting was finally adjourned and McKinley was free of the gaggle of fools, she was almost ready to lose her famed composure. They were useless cowards, all of them... even that idiotic Sergeant Cole had been useless. Leon Samael had them all eating out of the palm of his hand, and with a slick smile and a few words he had waltzed right into _her_ project and yanked the rug out from under her.

Or _thought_ he had, at any rate. Samael might have inserted himself into the situation, but Project Legion still belonged to her. No one understood the four subjects better than she. Not her underlings. Not Cole. Not even Samael. Dr. Holden approached her, and it was a testament to the understanding these two women shared that one glance told Holden what she needed to know.

Starting now, CEDA would be taking a more aggressive role in retrieving _their_ subjects. For they belonged to Dr. Erin McKinley... and no one else.


End file.
